Mom: FunKiller #1
See this? This is the sort of thing that makes me cringe and get nauseated and freak out-internally.
It’s true I’m one of those mother’s that keeps her children close. I don’t like them doing ANYTHING risky and I’d rather all their limbs remain grounded. I was not-so-secretly FINE with my kids being afraid of heights (which they outgrew, dammit) and if it were up to me they’d walk around in padding and helmets … just in case. They hold my hand across parking lots, I don’t let them play out front without an adult around. If there is a tree that needs to be climbed or the ledge of a wall walked…I prefer their father handle the task. I don’t want my kid driving in someone else’s car, so I schedule calls around field trips. If I haven’t been to your house and don’t know you well, they aren’t coming over to play.
Yes, I know. They need to experience the world and that may include getting hurt. Yes, I realize they have to be allowed to explore. Believe me…I try my best to allow reasonable play around here. But that’s exactly why, when my daughter was being tossed too many feet into the air…I kept my mouth shut. She was giggling, Dad was laughing…I was dying.
Do I speak up? Do I shut up? If I say something I’m a party pooper. If I don’t she could have a cracked head. Clearly Dad is in control, but what if an accident happens?
I struggle, much like this, almost daily. When I speak up I offend their father or ruin the fun and when I shut up I am riddled with anxiety. I have family members that discuss me as a ‘helicopter’ mom and friends that pat me on the back in agreement.
It’s a never-ending wave of decisions that ultimately show me as both the bad guy and the cautious parent…but never as fun.
I’m learning to accept my suck-ass FunKiller role, though. I am. Because frankly, I can’t take the alternative. Nor should I.
…and PuppyDog Tails
There’s really nothing like getting a phone call from your son’s teacher at 930pm to get the blood flowing.
Puts hair on your chest, as my grandfather used to say.
Things like this really should happen on the same day you’re dealing with a …let’s call it life changing news from another relative… AND your property tax bill, but I digress.
So it seems my 6-year old thought it would be FUN to slide around on the school bathroom floor. And pop his head into a stall or two. Upon finding an older boy in one of the stalls, he also thought it would be just a HOOT to say “I kissed your sister” and laugh.
He also, apparently, finds it just HILARIOUS to flash other students. You know, running up to other kids and lifting his shirt while screaming something nonsensical and running away giggling.
The good news here? There was no actual kissing and apparently he isn’t even aware that any of that wasn’t funny or wasn’t appropriate.
Score one for parents of the year.
I’ve had certain talks with my son. But apparently I’ve missed some basics? Yes, in case you are wondering…we totally pee and stuff with doors open around here. Ok not ALL the time but the kids have been busting in on me for so long and I don’t shut the door a lot anymore.
And kissing… hmmmm. I’m blaming tv for this. iCarly I’m looking at you. I haven’t let them watch shows like that in a long while but this weekend in Vegas we did watch a few and KISSING was a main topic.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shitty. Shit. Shit.
#parentingfail
As for the flashing thing.
Don’t even look at me.
It’s really hard not to take every single milestone or teaching moment with one of my kids EXTREMELY PERSONALLY.
I realize I can’t do everything and be everything and teach absolutely everything with zero mistakes all the time. I GET THAT. But when something like this comes up I feel like the biggest parenting LOSER because it was so BASIC AND SIMPLE. How could I possibly NOT gone over these things before?
Well apparently I haven’t. And now I’m wondering what ELSE I have missed.
The other piece of good news is something the teacher mentioned on the same call. He’s a very good natured boy. It’s not like when he ‘gets in trouble’ it’s anything malicious or mean. It’s always a joke or funny or silly.
Class clown, apparently. Or at least class clown wannabe. Or maybe just outgoing. That’s how I should look at it? That he’s just extroverted and social.
I’m looking for silver linings here people, don’t mock me.
I’m not sure though. I think maybe these are just the little things that pop up in this whole ‘growing up’ process and I will deal with them as they come. And tomorrow morning we’ll talking about privacy and kissing and what’s appropriate.
Gah. Can’t wait.
Guessing I shouldn’t relay stories of having a gaggle of girls hold down a boy in Kindergarten so I could kiss him or flashing truckers in my college days.
Yeah…best to leave that out…
Show Them the World
I’ve been taking my kids with me on business trips lately. Insane? Yes. But there is a method to my madness.
Balance.
That elusive word we all cling to. That goal we all strive for. That insane dream.
Originally I had two trips planned in 10 days and bringing my kids on one was a matter of survival. If I wanted to go I really had no choice. It meant the kids were happy to be with Mom and I was happy they were near and under my control. It also took away some of the guilt for the next trip.
However it has to be one of the furthest things from ideal. It’s not practical, and it’s 40 times more work.
I told myself I was exposing them to a new place (a strip with drunken adults, hookers, really really bright lights) and travel would expand their tiny little minds. But really I was taking them to what amounted to a rather unfamily friendly place and hoping I could keep them busy.
It wasn’t ideal but it worked. Of course life, being what it is, meant my second trip was postponed and my husband ended up NOT working this weekend. They could have stayed home, I could have gone alone, none of it was necessary.
I use the term ‘It worked’ loosely. Just a quick stop into the conference center resulted in the kids running amok while I was stopped by various people to say hello.
I looked like THAT Mom. The one with the wild kids who was rude enough to bring them along. I FELT like THAT Mom.
But what those there did not realize was for that 10 minutes of chaos, I got 72 hours of calm in my life. For that tiny blink of two kids running circles around my body as I tried to talk to you… I got days of peace-of-mind.
Balance.
Over and over, before I had kids, friends and family would say “Oh when you do, you just do what you have to do” and I never really understood. Surely there were always babysitters and surely there was always a way to make it work.
No one told me that it doesn’t work more often than it does and “you just do what you have to do” happens 99.9% of the time.
99.9% of the time.
So this past weekend I did what I had to…or really, what I wanted to, on my terms. The kids were the only ones under 21 at the hotel pool and they colored on the back of business cards. We improvised. We did what we had to do.
Balance.
Up Up and Away
The 6-year old ‘BallonBoy’ everyone is talking about? Yeah…that made me throw up.
Literally. I heard, saw, turned off the tv, and vomited.
Granted I have gastroparesis and this is not a hard thing to make me do…but the thought of that child, just like my own inquisitive 6-year old, in that balloon had me an emotional disaster to the point of physical illness.
While they iron out all the details, I’m overjoyed this boy is safe and sound and will save my wrath once the verdict is in on this incident. In the meantime…I think I need to tone it down a notch.
Control my emotions? Maybe?
Not surprisingly I get this way over anything I love or am passionate about. I work myself up to the point of physical symptoms. Probably not healthy. However don’t ever doubt how I feel. I will show you with hand wringing, and lack of self control.
I will cry as I explain why I feel health care reform is so very important. I will yell and gesture wildly as I defend the President. I will vomit when a boy, just like my own, goes missing.
Passion is an amazing thing when channeled properly. And a very messy one when left unchecked.
Checking myself.
Something Old, Something New
I caught my daughter in a wedding dress today.
Playing dress up at school and oblivious her mother had entered the class and was watching, she held a pencil in her hand like a bouquet and walked in a straight line to her cubby.
I nearly threw up.
Seeing her just pretend to get married sent shivers down my spine and made my otherwise calm mind go slightly insane. My gut reaction was “NO NO NO NO NO THIS IS NOT WHAT I WANT FOR YOU!”
This is the reaction of a happily married woman who has had many, many benefits from being tied to one man for the rest of her life.
This is the reaction of a girl who dreamt of her own wedding since she was her daughter’s age.
This is the reaction of a mostly sane woman who has done as she pleases through out life and supports the institution of marriage.
Slightly panicked, I asked my darling daughter to take off her play veil and dress. It was time to go home.
But Mom, don’t I look beautiful?
Yes honey but it’s time to go.
But I look beautiful, right? Just like your picture on the tv.
Again I was stopped dead in my tracks.
Of course one of our wedding photos sits atop our television and of course she’s asked to see it a million times. She has asked me about the dress, the veil, the flowers. We’ve talked about how Daddy was wearing a tuxedo with his Chucks and why Mommy wore no shoes. She sees her father dote on me. She’s never seen us fight. She has no inclining of what it means to be married and what it takes to stay married and only vaguely knows and understands the word “compromise.”
To her, a marriage is a wedding and a wedding means a fancy dress and a pretty veil and everyone telling you just how beautiful you are.
As a young girl, I can remember my father telling me over and over again that I never needed to marry. That he wanted more for me, and that I didn’t need a man. He told me this so much, that I began to think of matrimony as some far off thing “other” girls did and something I “might” do someday if I felt like it. But even during my most independent of moments, that dress and those flowers and that ring still beckoned. I wanted to be told I was beautiful and I wanted a man to love me forever and I wanted all those things and then some despite myself.
There was no rationale for it though. No coherent, logical reason. Just like there was no coherent, logical reason I nearly lost my breakfast when I saw my 4-year old dressed as a bride.
Maybe it was less about the wedding gown and more about her growing up. Maybe it was my want for her to do everything and see everything and enjoy everything before getting married and settling down.
Maybe because I am finally realizing she is not me. She does not need and want what I need and want, and there is no guarantee that what makes me happy, will make her happy.
Maybe I just realized she’s her own, tiny peanut of a girl who will do what she wants, regardless of what I say. Pencil instead of bouquet, wrinkled size 4 wedding gown, obstinate and strong headed, fighting me to keep it on, while I wrestle it off.
I may have gotten the dress off today…but I may not next time around.
I want more.
I’m doing everything I can to not cry right now.
I just separated and sifted through all of the baby clothes, toys, and trinkets stored in my garage and attic as we get ready for a garage sale. Rompers and teddy bears, mobiles and building blocks. That one soft book that was chewed on it’s edges. That one green elephant that was worn and loved.
I don’t want this to be over. I don’t want babies to be gone from my life. I don’t want to be through with car seats you have to carry, slings that I never used but might, or blankets so soft you can’t help but rub them against your cheek.
I don’t want to have this garage sale and I don’t want to be done having children.
My reasons are selfish and make no sense, and my husband does not share my emotions. He had to ask why I was reacting with every box and bag I opened. I told him I felt like my heart was being sucked from my chest. With every new item placed in front of me I had a million memories of tiny hands and tiny feet. Little runny noses and mostly bald baby heads. I could hear the cries. I could smell the powder. And inside, two school-aged children were oblivious to their Mother’s mental walk down memory lane.
Just this morning the kids were chasing each other around the house. They were giggling and running and generally causing chaos. Instead of telling them to quiet down, I laughed. Instead of telling them to walk, I wanted them to run faster. The stress and hustle and general drudgery that is our daily lives was gone for just a few minutes and everyone was simply happy.
It happened again at lunch. With the entire family around the table goofing around. Sharing silly stories and uproars of laughter.
I wanted to stop time today twice, and turn it back once. I wanted to bottle every moment I remembered in that garage and every giggle I heard on this Sunday.
I want more. I want more. I want more.
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