Thursday, January 29, 2015
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
That moment when your kids have done something not so awesome and they need to be scolded but not so bad that they deserve grounding or time in their room so you give them your most withering mom look and they’re looking back at you like whatever mom I’ve so got your number and you keep glaring at them thinking that if you keep it up they’ll finally learn the silent but necessary lesson you’re trying so desperately to teach and then they grin at you or roll their eyes at you and you try to school your features so you don’t betray this serious lesson by smiling but eventually you’re scrunching up your face and bursting out with laughter because those frustrating kids of yours are kind of cute and you love them you just can’t stand it anymore and the moment is broken.
Or when you’re in bed at night totally engrossed in a book and Hubby comes in and stands at the bottom of the bed and you can see him just beyond the top of your book so you know he’s there but you’re not really paying attention and then he hikes his pajama bottoms up to his armpits and stands there waiting for you to realize that he’s being a goofball trying to draw you away from your book and you know exactly what he’s doing but you try to ignore him except you keep reading the same sentence over and over again and finally you look up thinking you’ll be able to keep a straight face but you come eye to eye with the man you married who has his pajama bottoms pulled up to his armpits and he grins and you burst out laughing because you just can’t stand it anymore and the moment is broken.
I know you know what I’m talking about.
Monday, January 26, 2015
My dear daughter is going to be the death of me. With apologies to any gentleman readers I may be so lucky to have garnered, if I didn’t know she was seven years old, I would say she was fourteen and pre-menstrual. All. The. Time.
She’s so frustrating! Everything is drama. Everything is always wrong. It seems she is always ticked off at someone for some imagined slight. Every response is clipped and snotty. “No” is her favorite word. It doesn’t matter what we do, or don’t do, to incentivize her. Threatening her with loss of things she cares about (blankie, her stuffed dog, Cathy) doesn’t change anything; it just makes her madder. Or, she’ll start to cry those big crocodile tears, turn red, and storm out of the room hollering, “FINE! I’LL JUST GO IN MY ROOM AND NEVER COME OUT AGAIN!”
Please tell me this ends soon, and I’m not in for another seven, eight, nine years of this stuff? I might have to go jump off the nearest bridge.
As tough as she is when she’s awake, however, she is a dream (pun intended) at bedtime. After the struggle of getting her ready for bed, once she is actually in bed she’s usually asleep in about 5 minutes. She’s always been this way. By contrast, her brother, my dear son, is quite the opposite.
He’s much easier than she is (I’ve been told boys are easier than girls anyway – and so far, this is proving true in our household) but at night, he’s a nightmare (pun intended). He either has nightmares and wakes up scared, or he can’t sleep; almost every single night. Last night was no exception. I'd fallen into an exhausted sleep, but I was having a really terrible dream, so I was initially grateful to him when he woke me up with, “Mooo-om! I can’t sleep!” But actually, and unusually, I was somewhat scared myself (all I remember was that it was a doozy of a dream) and feeling like a chicken so I didn’t want to get out of bed. “Come on in here, buddy!” I hollered at him.
And like lightning, he was at my side. His little heart beating like hummingbirds wings. Poor kid. So I tucked him in beside me and we snuggled for a bit. I, drifting unfortunately back into a different, but equally stressful dream, and he, lying awake and staring at the ceiling. Finally, “Mom? Just let me know when you want me to go back to my room, OK?”
Him: Tell me when you want me to go back to my room.
Me: You want to go back?
Me: OK – I’m coming.
I follow him into his room, tuck him back in, and go to the kitchen for a glass of water. Great. Now I’m awake. He and I probably spent the rest of the night with one or the other (or both) of us awake.
Unfortunately, this is a pretty consistent pattern with him. He has never slept well. So while he’s usually cheerful and a delight to be around during the day, he’s a pain in my butt at night. And while she is becoming more and more troublesome during the day, she’s always been easy to deal with at night. Don’t get me wrong, she is a very sweet and loving child (or has been, up until recently) but…SHEESH!
Is it any wonder that I a) LOVE coffee and b) sleep in as often as it is possible to do so?
Also, in case you’re wondering, Hubby is completely deaf in one ear. So, if he’s sleeping on his good ear he hears none of this. Ever. So yes, the creatures I birthed are mine after dark. (Hm…I guess this adds more credence to those friends who have always believed I was somewhat vampiric?) Mwahahaha!!!
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Why is it, when things are going well, you (well…I) wait for the other shoe to drop? The jinx to occur. The sky to fall. The rug to be pulled out from under my feet. You get the picture? I’m happy where I am and I keep waiting on something to happen. I guess I feel like if I wait for it, then when it occurs, I’m prepared. Or, as prepared as one can ever be.
When I got laid off from my job a few years ago, it was completely and totally unexpected. "They" spent a lot of time assuring everyone that, though there were big changes afoot within the company, no one had to worry about their jobs. And then, once said changes took place, they immediately began laying people off. I was one of the lucky ones that received The Pink Slip Of Doom in the first round.
And folks wonder why, when things are going well, I say, “Yeah, for now.”
To me, it’s not negative thinking. Stinkin’ Thinkin’. It is self-preservation. If I prepare for the worst, or at least the bad, then the blow isn’t quite as devastating.
In truth, I suppose it really doesn’t work that way.
PS: No. Nothing is wrong. And that's what scares me.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015