The Beginning of Really Living

This evening, I was able to witness my lovely niece’s graduation from the eighth grade.  As I sat in the jam packed, sweltering gymnasium, clapping on cue, attempting to keep my husband from dying of hunger and trying not to gawk at the short skirts (dear lord!), it occurred to me: This is the Beginning.  The Beginning of Really Living.  These children will go on to become doctors who will treat me when I am old, they will become educators who will teach my grandchildren, they will become scientists, astronomers, mayors, bus drivers, business owners, counselors.  They will become parents who will raise children of their own who will one day walk across that stage and take a diploma in hand.  The Beginning.

After the diplomas had been passed out, the children stood, we clapped some more.  Husband is now convinced he may be fading further into starvation.  The principal announced his closing speech.  He spoke to his (now, former) students about going out into the world; he encouraged them to sincerely show gratitude to the family, teachers, friends who had helped them become the amazing young people they were today.  And then he asked his own daughter who was seven years old to come and sit with him and look at the class of 2017.  He explained to her that they had had some struggles with homework, tests, classes, teachers, each other.  But that they had certainly had a lot of fun too.  This principal, as he spoke to his graduated class, spoke as a parent.  Effortlessly and from the heart.  And not only did this group of silly, emotional, excited barely teenagers listen intently to every word which left the man’s mouth, his daughter did too.

As a Mama of a seven year old, I envy the opportunity to fully captivate my son in a lesson which may quite possibly last him his lifetime.  Have fun.  Be a kid.  School is so important.  When something seems to big you don’t think you can get through it, you always will.  Ask for help when you require it and space when you need it.  Our children are going to become powerful, inspiring, helpful humans.  And it is our job to guide them.  These students are on the cusp of high school where their new challenges will be peer pressure, drugs, sex and an array of  bad choices.  Like a new world of opportunity, these temptations spread before them as part of the landscape.  The choices they make as young adults, are shaped by the values we instill in them through their childhood.  It is so important.  It is so important.

So that next time I want to give up.  Check out from being a parent for a bit, I will try to remind myself of just how important it is to be the most responsive, patient, loving and determined parent I can be.  Do I want them to see that Mama checks out when shit gets tough?  Um, nope.  They watch us.  They are witness to every fit of anger, ever exasperated sigh, every swear muttered under our breath, every eye roll, every snide comment and the negative energy that seeps from our pores.  We worry about violence, the media and video games but the truth is, our children see the ugly from us.  And that’s depressing.  But it’s also empowering.  Why?  Because we can control all of those things.  And that is freeing.

Tonight, this principal took the time to be a parent.  He showed his adorable, sweet little girl the good he was sending out into the world.  He told her about the wonderful things these students would do.  And all they would become.  As she stared up at him, shiny blonde curls falling around her soft pink cheeks, she became convinced that she would become one of these gifted, inspiring graduates one day too.  It begins with us.  This was a lesson for me.  Crazy breeds crazy but positvity leads to opportunity.  We can give our children that opportunity.  It’s worth it.  They are worth the investment.  This is the Beginning of the Really Living.

Peace, Mamas.

Mama Needs to Rally

Do you ever just feel like giving in to this chaos?  Like you are walking around in circles and into walls all day long?  Yeah?  Well join the club.  There are many wonderful things about motherhood.  And I do so adore my children.  And sometimes I want to throw them through the wall.  The whining is what’s been getting to me the most lately.  And with the end of the school year, I am feeling like I just don’t give a shit anymore.  Cub went to school twice this week with a jelly sandwich for lunch and guess what he’s having tomorrow… Sorry little dude.  Although he looks at this like a treat, I’m still feeling shitty about it.  I wonder what those lunch ladies think when the see what the kids have to eat at this time of year… Who else sorta gave up on packing a lunch encompassing the different food groups?  C’mon.  Where’s my slacker Mamas at?

The truth is I’m just tired.  Husband forgot to grab a key item required for dinner tonight so Mama had to stop at the store on the way home from work- along with 40,000 other Mamas whose husbands forgot shit too.  Do you switch lines when the competency level of the cashier is revealed or when you notice a handful of coupons in the customer’s hands in front of you?  Normally, I am not a switcher but my anxiety about getting home, dinner, showers and the bullshit that would greet me at the door got the better of me.  I made two bad switches before I realized it made no difference.  I was stuck in a suck line behind a suck customer and a suck cashier.  Great.  My husband calls while I am pulling out of the parking lot.  I can hear screaming in the background.  Shit.  The high point of my day came when my dear friend texted me to inform me that (thankfully her children are nearly as screwed up as mine or I’m not sure we could be friends) her son told another child at daycare that she smelled like a penis.  Boys. Rock.  And that actually gave me some of my energy back and lightened my mood a bit.

When I pulled in the driveway, I could hear the screaming of the “chase game” from the driveway.  Rally.  Dinner was nuts.  Zook is crying.  Why is he crying?  He wants a spoon.  Wait he wants a fork.  Wait he wants ice cream.  With a fork.  Ugh.  Unload dishwasher, load dishwasher, pick up the corn and rice off the floor.  At this point, I actually almost started to cry.  I think because I realized that there wasn’t a clean kitchen towel in the drawer.  And I knew there wasn’t one in the basket upstairs either.  And yes, it sounds trivial but the absence of the kitchen towel midst the crying and demands of Zook, the whining and arguing of Mooch and Cub and the fact that I still had so far, so far to go before the calm could set in, really, really started to get to me.  Suck it up Mama.  Rally.  Showers, screaming , soap in eyes (it’s the tearless kind for God’s sake!) clip 60 (yes, 60) nails.  Read an Elmo book.  God I hate Elmo.  Quiet.  Snuggling my babies with warm soft hands on my cheeks.  Almost there.  Lights out and done.  Breathe.  And good news folks!  We get to do it all over again in 24 hours!

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There are just not enough hours in the day- so cliche right?  So true.  I am barely getting by here.  Summer has got to come.  No more homework, no more projects, no more searching for library books or forgetting sneakers on gym day.  No more hunting for the perfect item for Share Day.  Oh sweet summer.  I think I am craving the serenity more than my kids.

Rally.  That’s what I feel like most of my life has come to lately.  I am so tired.  Stretched to the point of exhaustion.  And I know that’s the reason I yell and have a lack of patience.  I know it’s me and not them.  But (I am about to admit something terrible here) sometimes I feel like I just don’t want to care anymore.  Like I am just done trying.  I know I shouldn’t yell and sometimes in the moment, I even think Why am I yelling right now?  Stop!  Stop it, Mama!  But no.  I yell and spend the next hour feeling like shit.  That’s more the cycle I speak of.  More than the chores and endless whining from the kids.  It’s me.  Mamas (and the Papas) reading this who have toddlers and babies… I used to be like you.  Said I wasn’t going to yell.  Said I wasn’t going to lose my temper.  Read all those Zen parenting books and blogs.  And then my kids could talk back.  And that all went out the window.  This is a judgement-free zone.

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So where do we go from here?  We start over.  Tomorrow the sun will rise again.  The cycle might start again.  Or it might not.  I am not in control of their behavior.  But I need to be fully in control of my own.  And of my responses to their behavior.  Breathe.  Tomorrow I’ll be back on the wagon.  It won’t be perfect but as long as I keep trying to make things better.  As long as I keep giving a shit.  I can do better.  I owe it to them (and myself) to be better.  And that’s all I can do.  Rally.

Peace, Mamas.

A Kid-friendly Meal?! Oh Hell Yeah!

Yes, it’s true…  My entire family ate this meal.  It was amazing!

The main idea with any meal is fresh, natural and local.  We make every effort to consume foods which are grown withing 100 miles of our home.  In addition, I steer away from corn and legumes unless they are organic and non-GMO (genetically modified organisms).  In fact, I try to entirely stay away from foods containing GMOs.  Why would I want to feed my family man-made food?!  Recently, I came across a wonderful site which maintains a registry of non-GMO foods. The Non-GMO Project, website here, lists foods and brands which are registered as non-GMO.  I was very surprised that many of the items in the natural foods section contain GMOs.  Kashi?!  Yes, Kashi.  Why are these foods not labeled, you ask?  Well, here in Vermont, we are working very hard to make that happen.  Stay tuned!  Quality food is something I’m rather obsessed with and there are worse things to obsess over.  The fuel we ingest determines the efficiency of our bodily functions- which is essential to life.  Off the soap box for now and on with the show.

Brace yourself… Here comes dinner!  Who likes what, who won’t eat what and who throws a fit.  Not tonight…  Oh hel-lo Chicken Won-Ton Cups!  Using delicious, free-range, local chicken breasts, non-GMO won ton wraps, organic cabbage and carrots, I pulled off a winning meal that everyone loved.  I deconstructed it a little for the kiddos- they prefer raw veggies and weren’t super into the cabbage but since I planned for this ahead of time, we were golden!

Here’s the low-down:

  • 1lb. Boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1 inch cubes
  • Half head of cabbage, shredded or sliced very thinly
  • 4 Carrots, julienned (cut into matchsticks)
  • 24 Won ton wraps
  • 1 tablespoon EVOO
  • Cooking Spray
  • 2 tablespoons Soy sauce

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and spray two 12-cup muffin tins with cooking spray.  Gently push one won ton wrap into each muffin cup, bake for 8-10 minutes, until edges just begin to brown.  Spray non-stick skillet with a little cooking spray, add chicken. Once the chicken is cooked through, add the soy sauce and cook down for 1-2 minutes.  Remove from heat.  Meanwhile, in a large skillet, heat the EVOO on med-high heat and add the cabbage and carrots.  Saute until the cabbage begins to brown slightly and the carrots are tender.  Add salt and pepper to taste.  Assemble, using the won ton as a cup for the cabbage, carrots and chicken.  Voila!

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I think the kids were quite intrigued with the idea of eating dinner from an edible cup.  They did not eat the carrot-cabbage mixture so instead used raw carrots and tomatoes along with the chicken.  The idea of using the cups got me to thinking about different food combos that could be subbed.  There will surely be some experimenting!  Enjoy these with additional soy sauce if you desire but we didn’t need any- the flavor was delicious and perfect!

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Lastly, I decided on Sunday that I would renew my commitment to the No Yell Challenge.  And I am happy to report that it’s been a success!  A huge success, actually.  I have stayed true to not yelling.  Exhausted my patience, been empathetic and all that nice warm and fuzzy shit.  And it’s working.  I have also been really diligent about telling my children how much they mean to me.   At a few points during the day, I have tried to quantify my love for them in a way that might make sense.  By committing to this, it’s really forced me to think positively about how I parent.  Inadvertently, I have changed up my vocabulary and tone of voice because I need to make my actions reflect my feelings.  Tough but not impossible.  I feel great and I really think they do as well.  Win-win!

And I leave for my trip on Monday…  This has been on my mind for the last week and I can feel my anxiety mounting as the date gets closer.  Instead of dwelling on leaving my little guys (and my big guy), I have poured myself into making these last days with them count.  So far, my avoidance and denial have worked out nicely…

Peace Mamas!

 

Sunday Reset: Vomit Talk

End of another week.  My posts haven’t been as frequent due to round 411 of this fucking stomach bug.  Seriously.  My middle dude seems to pick it up more than anyone else.  So he’s had it twice in the last week.  Just when I start to think we are getting through this…  Mama…?  It’s coming.  Racing up the stairs, clutching his body, turning to head back down the stairs and…  Yup.  All over me.  In my hair.  Dripping down the stairs.  Oh my God.  What the hell just happened?  While husband is showering Mooch, Mama has now stripped and is cleaning up some of the vilest vomit with diluted vinegar –because some idiot (ugh, me) decided it would be a good idea to break up with the Clorox.  Idiot.  While I am cursing myself out for that stupid decision, near-naked, I realize I have quite a night ahead of me.  My prediction was dead-on.

So I think we are in the clear and three days over again: Hello, Vomit!  Missed you so!  This time the stairs were safe however, the carpet and sheets took a hit.  Not in my hair- but in his and just on the shoulder of my shirt.  Only for the rest of the day, I can smell throw up.  You know what I’m talking about, right?  Where you know you catch a whiff and then you start sniffing like a lunatic trying to locate some shred of evidence to support the stench?  I’m not the only one who does this, right?  Right…?  But then you don’t smell it anymore.  Life goes on.  And all of a sudden, while playing the 506th game of Connect Four, I get the whiff again.  Pulling out my own shirt, I locate the source: a dime-sized chunk of vomit stuck to the inside of my sports bra (yes, I’m still wearing the same one from last night, no I have not showered and no you can’t  judge me).  What the fuck.   This is my life.

Now this may all seem very gross to you- even if you have kids.  But I bet you can relate.  And if you don’t have children, well, I should apologize because after reading that you may not ever want them.  But if you have stuck with me thus far, keep reading.

All of this throw up and lost sleep, carpet cleaner, laundry and scrubbing also brings some good stuff too.  Like watching them sleep.  (Okay, I’ll admit it, I am obsessed.)  In addition to swearing slow and painful torture on the culprit who wakes said child, I get the privilege to witness their peace- the steady rise and fall of their chest, those soft pink lips, the sweaty little palms holding tight to your own.  The gentle flicks of their eyelids.  Staring, searching their faces for hints of change or age; memorizing every contour of that plump chin and those fleshy, warm cheeks.  It’s bliss.  And then comes the upchuck of bile and the acidic remnants of last nights dinner.  Instant replay.

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It’s in these moments of bliss that I realize two things (1) They are fleeting and (2) I’m actually really patient and kind when helping my children through incredibly stressful, terrible situations (getting barfed on is about as bad as it gets…) yet in those times of normal stress, I kind of suck.  The annoyances of every day life seem to, well, annoy me the most.  Those ridiculous noises, the random yells, repetition of song lyrics, whining, not listening and sluggishness when it’s time to get out the door.  If I can deal with vomit in my hair (and in my fricken bra for half the day) why can’t I deal with the little shit?  Good question.

I need to be more patient.  I need to dig deep.  This week, I shall.  One week from tomorrow, I leave my children for four days.  Leaving on a jet plane to Denver for work.  I’m going to miss them terribly.  And I know they will miss me.  This week, before I go, I am making it count.  I am going to give them my ultimate patience.  And I’m sure you’ll hear about it.  How hard it is, how I may fail but how hard I am going to to try.  As I was reminded recently by a friend, I need to rediscover the No Yell Challenge.  It is really hard.  But it’s really important.  Join me.  It will be far less repulsive then vomit in your bra.

Peace, Mamas.

Lunch Love Notes

Do your children miss you?  I didn’t realize quite how much mine did until this week.

When I was little, my Mama often sent love notes along with my lunch.  The notes wouldn’t be long lists of the ways I pleased her or why she loved me better than my sisters (sorry, girls), the notes were more an indication that she thought and cared about me when I was not with her.  And even though my mom hasn’t been packing my lunch for over two decades, she still let’s me know she’s thinking of me.  Be it texts, emails or dropping a quick dime, she let’s me know I have been on her mind.  And it still feels good.

I write notes to my kids along with their lunches.  Usually quick things like, Hope you have a super day!  or I can’t wait to see you this afternoon!  But they always end with I love you, Mama.  Always.  Sometimes, I try to hide the note in with their lunch and make them search it out.  Sometimes, I toss it in at the last minute.  And sometimes, I forget.  Earlier this week, Mooch asked me if I would sign his Lunch Love Note from our entire family so he would be reminded of all of us during the day.  I asked Cub if he read the notes I sent.  He said yes and that his friends always tried to snatch the note from him to read it.  Timidly, I asked if it embarrassed him that I sent the notes…  (Say no, say no, say no…)  Yes, he said.  Do you want me to stop sending them with you?  No, he grinned.  [One of those Mama Moments]

Cub and I decided that I could try to write his Lunch Love Notes in code using a Lord of the Rings Lego decoder…  Well, I am truly a Mama of three boys.  So we are going to work on the decoder so I can tell him I Love You without anyone knowing.  But for now (until I learn to be a better Mama of three boys), we are going with this:

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The next morning, just as he had asked, I included a note with Mooch’s lunch which read: Dear Mooch, I hope you have a wonderful day and I can’t wait to hear about all the new things you learned and friends you played with!  We love you, Mama, Daddy, Cub and Zook.  XOXO.  I hid it inside his cloth sandwich bag and Velcroed it shut.  At dinner that night, I asked him if he had gotten the note.  He said he had found it and asked his teacher to read it to him.  Then I snuggled it when I had my nap time so I wouldn’t miss you as much.  [Mama Moment]  Sure enough, I found the Lunch Love Note crumpled up in his slipper.  Have I mentioned lately that I adore these children?  Maybe not enough.  Read on.

It’s reminding me that all too often, we Mamas spend hours per day critiquing our children.  Helping them get something right, giving out pointers, requests, advice.  We instruct, we make demands, we provide feedback.  These are all important things for sure but I wonder if the times per day we tell them we love them or miss them match these critiques.  Should it?  Now that I spend some time thinking about it, we do spend a great deal of energy on correcting our children and pointing out (kindly, of course) when they have made a mistake.  I am confident I tell them I love them at least… Twice… Shit.  It’s a simple thing.  It’s just that there are many other things that I need to say.  But what could be more important than I Love You…?  I think we all know the answer to that.

Now I am not talking about just saying it for the sake of saying it.  I love you I love you I love you.  See?  Meaningless.  But what about, The smile you had when you got off the bus today made my whole day better.  Or, I love your hugs.  Or better still, Can I have an extra hug so when I am missing you later today I remember how it feels to hold you?  These deeper, more meaningful expressions of love are just that: Deeper and more meaningful.  Which is exactly what I think kids need.  We need to quantify love for them- otherwise they may get lost in the vastness of it.  One of my favorite things to say to my kids is I love you more than all the leaves on all the trees in the whole entire world.  Then I point out a tree and ask him to try to count all the leaves.  I can’t- there’s too many, Mama.  Yup.  That’s right kiddo.  That’s right.

Peace, Mamas.

The Versatile Blogger Award

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Along this road of becoming a blogger, I have had the opportunity to connect with many fabulously talented, passionate and hilarious bloggers.  Hands-down, one of my most supportive connections has been with Atlantamomofthree.  Can you say awesome Mama?!  Thank you sweet Mama for your kind words through my lows, your humor during my highs and for reading my posts!  You rock!

Now for the nitty-gritty:

Below are seven random facts about me.  Next, I get to nominate others for the award.

Things about me

  1. I love popcorn.
  2. I am kinda addicted to Pinterest… Okay, really addicted.  But who’s not, am I right?!
  3. My newest hobby is gardening.
  4. My birthday is on Flag Day.  (Go ahead and Google it.)
  5. I love to wear turtlenecks.
  6. I have a whiteboard calendar and no one in our house is allowed to write on it except me (because I only want my handwriting on it- not because I am worried about the dates getting mixed up).
  7. I have the best friends in the whole wide world. True story.

And the nominees are…

It Takes the Village

Redemption 2013

Running After Ale

Sarah’s Brand New Chapter

LoveFoodLoveMe

Check out these great blogs!  I am positive you’ll love them as much I as I do!

Peace, Mamas!

Twenty-Four Hours as a Mama

Wednesday

5:00pm- Husband calls: Cub has (another) migraine and is going to skip lacrosse.  Again.

5:15pm- Mama arrives home, takes dinner (prepared last night) out of the oven.

5:20pm- Cub vomits.

5:30pm- Mama tucks Cub in bed with Tylenol and bucket, ensures that towels are covering every square inch of carpet surrounding his bed.

5:40pm- Mama sits down to dinner.

5:45pm- Mooch complains of stomach ache.  Shit.

6:00pm- Mooch goes to bed.

6:15pm- Mama cleans up kitchen.

7:00pm- Mama brings Zook up to bed, which is shared with Mooch– Who is now moaning.

7:15pm- Mama nearly loses her shit and Husband comes up for relief.  Did I mention I appreciate this man?

8:00pm- Mooch, moaning again.  Shit.  It’s coming.

8:02pm- Mooch vomits.  Mama is a little slow with the bucket.  Mama brings Mooch downstairs to bathroom, cleans him up, changes his shirt.  Husband attempts clean up.  With Mama’s bath towel.  Never mind the last bit about appreciating him.

8:15pm- Mooch goes back to bed.  Mama finishes clean up.

8:30pm- Quiet.

9:30pm- Mama goes to bed.

9:45pm- Moaning.  Mooch vomits again.

10:15pm- Mama tucks Mooch back into bed.

11:30pm- Mooch vomits.

Thursday

1:40am- Mooch vomits.

3:35am- Mooch vomits.

4:30am- Cub comes in.  He’s awake now.

5:00am- Husband gets up to shower.  Mooch and Zook are up now too.  Ugh.  Mama hides.

6:00am- Mama is up.

8:30am- Mama arrives at work and gets to close the door to pee and eat snacks without running defense for the last bite.  Amazing.

5:35pm- Mama arrives home from work.  Husband has dinner on the table.  Appreciating him again.

5:45pm- Mama remembers Mooch has Open House at preschool.  At 6:00pm.

6:05pm- Open House.

6:45pm- Home.  Mama scarfs down the rest of dinner.

7:00pm- Husband tucks kids in bed.

7:35pm- Quiet.

8:02pm- Zook has to pee.  Ugh.

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M&Ms really pair better with red…  Cheers, Mamas!

Some Love for the Husbands

I swore I wouldn’t do it but here is a post about my husband.  We had a rough weekend.  Mainly Mother’s Day kind of sucked.  But I’m glad it sucked because since, things have gotten a whole lot better.  In my last post, you may have read a bit about the terror/love that is my youngest, Zook.  He exhausts an exorbitant amount of my energy lately with his tantrums, crying and all-around-pain-in-the- assness (yes, assness is totally a word).  The self-control I have to exert is so great that I haven’t had a ton of energy left over for anything else.  Including my husband.

Growing apart is strange.  It’s such a slow process yet, when you look back, it seems like you can’t really tell quite when things got to be this way.  And to be clear, I am not really sure I’d say that we grew apart I’d just say that we became a little distant.  I of course, so consumed with the insanity of dealing with my little monster, was clueless.

So we had a fight.  On Mother’s Day.  One of those fights that starts out over something so minute that you can’t really even put your finger on it but you wish it never happened because then the snowball starts to roll… It gets bigger… It seems to be rolling so quickly and become so dense that it’s nearly impossible to stop.  You know where I’m going with this, right?  My sweet, loving sensitive husband fessed up to his feelings and I felt horrible.

I thought that we just didn’t have time for each other right now and in a few years when this crazy amusement ride slows a bit, we would be able to talk again, spend time together again.  What we both learned was something you always hear from other people, you admit that it’s true but always think you’re doing enough: Relationships take work.  Living together, being permanent roommates, isn’t bad- it’s just not as much fun.  We need to create opportunities to spend time together, talk together and be a couple.  I knew this was important but I don’t think until this weekend, I realized just how essential it really is to being happy.

I already feel the shift.  We are working together, looking forward to spending time together, making plans for alone time.  We are sneaking smiles to each other midst the morning shuffle, flirting with each other.  It’s been two days and already, I feel we are back on track.  So as gradual as the shift to the dark side can be, this rerouting toward the light has taken place nearly instantly.  This man is truly my best friend and everything that I can’t be sometimes.  He knows me.  He knows what I need from him.  I know what he needs from me.  We needed the argument this weekend.

So not only do I feel better about us, I feel better about parenting together too.  Tonight, I was upstairs dealing with the kids, trying to get them to bed, no one was listening, one child was already asleep and if someone woke him up…  Just as I was about to beat some bitches up, hubby came up.  He touched me on my shoulder.  I got this.  You can go down.  In. Love.

We have changed.  We are growing together.  There is no one else I want to work this crazy gig with.

And we are having a Mother’s Day Do-Over next weekend.   Peace Mamas.

Mama is Fed the F*ck Up

I don’t know how I got here but I am really struggling.  Patience are none existent.  Rationality has been exhausted.  My last nerve has been on extended leave.  What the hell is going on?  Well, I’ll tell ya.  My two year old has made a liar out of me.  Up until now, I never believed in the Terrible Twos.  Three was the worst in our house.  Three was the age of talking back, and fierce independence.  I thought the Terrible Twos were a load of shit.  Until I met Zook.

His whining has become the soundtrack to my life.  I swear, the crying and wallowing haunts me in my sleep.  He wants to help with everything.  Which is fine.  Takes a few extra minutes but I can deal with that.  If that was it.  But helping doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of my frustration with this child as of late.

Tonight was taco night.  Zook wanted a soft shell with shredded cheese.  Rolled inside.  Wait, on the side.  On the side of the plate.  Actually on the plate.  Yes, on the plate with sour cream to dip it in.  No, sour cream on the tortilla.  Okay, cheese on the side with sour cream in the taco.  Got it.  Nope, change of plans.  Sour cream out of the tortilla.  With cheese on the side.  What?  There’s still sour cream on the tortilla?  I can’t get it all out.  Now the tortilla is on the floor.  Now he wants a new tortilla.  With cheese.  And sour cream.  And tomatoes.  What. The. Fuck.

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I just can’t win with this kid.  I am certainly not a rookie Mama but lately, I am feeling like I am flailing through my interactions with this child.  I have no clue what is going to piss him off.  A dribble of milk spills next to his cereal bowl.  He wants cake.  In bed.  He wants me to fit the baseball through the egg-sized hole.  He doesn’t wait to sit in his carseat.  His shirt has a picky part.  His sock has an itchy part.  He wants to crush every Lego ship in the save-spot.  Please don’t hit Mama with the hammer.  Please, Mama!  Hit Mama, please!  Are you kidding me, kid?!

Being a Mama is so hard right now.  Tonight I literally felt like I could have shaken him.  Can they still get shaken baby syndrome at age two?!  I didn’t… But I could have.  I feel like I am on edge.  Like I have some kind of sick mental illness where I try to anticipate things that will piss him off and prevent them so I can alter the future.  You really don’t want to flush the toilet this time?  Really?  But you really like to do it.  Are you sure because if I flush we can’t have a do over.  Okay…  Maybe we’ll leave it for a minute if you change your mind…  What is my problem?  Am I enabling this?

I feel like I am failing him and myself.  And it’s really not fair to my other two.  I get that.  I feel like I used to be so much better at negotiating this kind of stuff but I am really sucking.  Exhausted, depleted, defeated.  Mama is tired of trying.  Tired of the whining, begging, screaming.  Tired of the meltdowns (his and mine).  Beyond tired of the struggle.  When is this going to get better?  I know this is a phase.  But honestly, the next person who says that to me should guard their throat because I’m not sure I can control the urge to punch.  It is a phase but we’ve been in this fucking phase for months now and it’s not really getting better.  I need an intervention.  (Self-medicating with alcohol has proved to be only marginally effective…)

We will overcome.  We will get through this.  The silence tonight is my therapy.  I need peace so that I can convince myself tomorrow will be better; that I will have more patience; that we can make it through this.  I need to hear  all of these things to convince myself I really don’t need to pack that bag and sneak out in the night.  I need to look in on his sleeping sweet face.  I adore this child…  Why does he have to be so fricken adorable?!  They really are cuter when they’re sleeping, huh?

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Peace Mamas.

Mama Project: Lake Walk

Share day in Cub’s class is themed each month. So instead of bringing the same junk into share with his classmates, we have to come up with items which match the theme for the curriculum each month. Fabulous from a teacher stand-point… From a Mama stand point: What the hell am I going to come up with- and by the way the bus will be here in 3 minutes. What the hell.

This month, our theme is Lake Champlain. Which, if you don’t live in Vermont, you should totally Google. Right after you finish reading. Here in our lovely State we are blessed with a gorgeous lake, shared with NewYork and home to Champ, the legend Lake Monster. Which you should also Google. Back to Share Day. We sent in a photo and brief description of Champ and some sightings- which I printed off and threw in his backpack as he walked out the door we researched together last week. In a effort to encourage to Cub to be more thoughtful about his Share Day, we drove to the lake (which is a pathetic eight minute drive from our house…) and filled a jar with items from the Lake.

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Collecting, searching, inspecting. Touching, feeling, sensing. Smelling, listening, exploring. Taking it all in. This was a wonderfully, beautiful afternoon with my children. Watching them enjoy simple items like rocks, shells, feathers, sticks, weeds, water was refreshing. Rewarding. So in love with being a Mama today.

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Peace, Mamas!