It's been a while. I've missed writing my posts. Although I didn't know I missed it. In my absence I have written some poetry and the beginning of two books. With my track record I think they should probably just be short stories though or I may never finish them. As usual for a mom, most of my hobbies or wants are pushed to the side. There are children and a husband with their own wants and needs.
Speaking of children, mine are in school. ALL OF THEM! It's a milestone I never thought we'd get to. From 8:30 to 12:30 there is not a child in sight. No pitter patter of feet. No screaming, crying, laughing, talking, or incessant question asking. (but why???) For four hours a day I am alone. I am excited for it, believe me, I needed this. I just can't shake this feeling of sadness. The house is silent and empty. As I sit here typing the only noise I hear is the click of my keyboard. Every letter is a declaration of freedom, but also something else. I am free, but like a Stockholm syndrome suffer I miss my prison. I spend my new free time counting the minutes till they come home.
At 12:30 when I pick up Alijah I am already weary from the knowledge of what his coming home brings, but also revived. How I missed his sweet face! As we drive home he chirps on about his day. The car center and broken monster truck. How he wrote his name all by himself. The games they played while outside. And like everyday he ends his narration with "You'll always come back for me won't you mommy?" And just like everyday I answer through a tight throat "I always come back for my chicken."
This exchange actually started when he was much younger and would fall apart when I left him even for a minute. "Mommy will be right back baby promise." "See, I always come back for my chicken!" As he has gotten older I haven't really had to say it. Every once and a while if he had a bad day while I was gone he'd cling to me and say it. Like his security blanket when he needed to feel better. I'll always come back and he is okay.
Now he needs a daily reminder that he won't be abandoned at the scary school. That his life will return to normal. He spends his day waiting for me to come pick him up and I spend my day waiting to go get him. For now our hearts and minds are on the same page. Soon though he'll be too old for such things. Like his brother and sister he'll move farther away from me more into himself. Into his own friends and hobbies. Eventually all my children will be grown up and gone. Living their lives and coming to visit when they can. This thought kills me. As much as I want them to become successful adults, part of me wishes they could stay young forever. They are my life, what will I do without them?
I realize the real question isn't if I'll always come back for you my babies. It's if you'll always come back for me...
Friday, August 23, 2013
Friday, February 17, 2012
Seventeen
When I was seventeen I was a jerk. I am completely aware of this fact. The world was my oyster and I was gonna tear it up. I knew what I was and wasn't gonna do and screw you if you thought different. That being said, I had a job, was decently respectful to my elders, and really tried not to do horribly dumb things.
I'm telling you this because I had a run in with a seventeen year old boy yesterday that really bothered me. I was driving out of my neighborhood and pulling up to a stop sign on a major road. There was a car turning left and I was going right so I veered to the side lane. Emanuel had been yelling to his friend who was on a bike on the side of the road. I didn't really pay attention, and thank God I didn't because a boy on a bike came around the front of the other car. I almost hit him!! He swerved and I slammed the brakes and somehow he didn't go splat. I threw up my hands in the universal "What the hell?!" and he yelled "whaddya mean what the hell?!" I lost it. "I mean watch where the hell you're going?" I screeched out my window. (Yes I cuss at children, so sue me.) The gravity of the situation was apparently lost on him because he sassed back "You watch where you're going!" Wrong answer kid! I was up and outta that truck faster than you can say assaulting a minor. "Tell me to watch where I'm going. How about your little ass doesn't ride in circles around cars at a busy intersection?" I grumbled in my head. "I almost hit you!" I yelled. "I know!" he yelled back. "You need to watch where you're going! What were you thinking?" I harped like a true mother. "I had to get him across the road safely!" he snorted gesturing to the boy Manny had being yelling at. "Why don't you get yourself across safe too huh?" I yelled back. This boy, this man-child, looked at me with a sneer and snapped, "I'm seventeen years old and I have life insurance. I don't give a shit!" I was flabbergasted. Instead of just walking away though, I had to get in the last word. And instead of making it meaningful, or giving him something to think about I screamed "Well great! Next time I'll run your ass over then!!"
As I returned to my truck and frightened children he spat out, "Get back in your truck you fat old bitch!" I didn't throw it into reverse and run him over as I promised. I didn't drag his punk ass home to his momma. I didn't even say another word. (to him. I had full blown rages in my head) It was over and I was too confused and tired to try and reason with him. I vaguely remember being that age and I'm pretty sure I never would have spoken that way to an adult. Plus I'm not a fat old bitch. I'm young and hip...aren't I?
The truth is, I am old. Not in actual years, as I'm really only 27, but in the way I think and act. I realized this as was talking to my friend on the phone today. She is awaiting her first child and has been locked in her house. She's one day past her due date and her husband has visions of her delivering in a super market parking lot. "Isn't it amazing? she said. "This is my last Friday as a non-parent. I mean after we have her we'll never be anything but parents again." I didn't get all cynical and sarcastic like I wanted to. (thats not the only thing you'll never be again!) I remember that excited anticipation.
That conversation got me thinking though. Its not just the enormity of being a parent that's amazing. What is really amazing is how your brain changes after becoming a parent. Now I look at playgrounds as death traps. Bathrooms as germ pits of doom. I care about school districts and music funding. I get angry at children who aren't mine for endangering their lives. I know what their mother will feel if they are hurt.
I have realized that mentally I'm a 60 year old man. "Get off that tree branch ya whippersnapper! You'll break your gosh darn neck!" And really I'm okay with it. I'll keep my babies (and yours) as safe as I can. I'll be a fat old bitch who cusses at children, but doesn't run them over because she drives so carefully when her own kids are in the car. I'm a mother. And that's what mothers do.
I'm telling you this because I had a run in with a seventeen year old boy yesterday that really bothered me. I was driving out of my neighborhood and pulling up to a stop sign on a major road. There was a car turning left and I was going right so I veered to the side lane. Emanuel had been yelling to his friend who was on a bike on the side of the road. I didn't really pay attention, and thank God I didn't because a boy on a bike came around the front of the other car. I almost hit him!! He swerved and I slammed the brakes and somehow he didn't go splat. I threw up my hands in the universal "What the hell?!" and he yelled "whaddya mean what the hell?!" I lost it. "I mean watch where the hell you're going?" I screeched out my window. (Yes I cuss at children, so sue me.) The gravity of the situation was apparently lost on him because he sassed back "You watch where you're going!" Wrong answer kid! I was up and outta that truck faster than you can say assaulting a minor. "Tell me to watch where I'm going. How about your little ass doesn't ride in circles around cars at a busy intersection?" I grumbled in my head. "I almost hit you!" I yelled. "I know!" he yelled back. "You need to watch where you're going! What were you thinking?" I harped like a true mother. "I had to get him across the road safely!" he snorted gesturing to the boy Manny had being yelling at. "Why don't you get yourself across safe too huh?" I yelled back. This boy, this man-child, looked at me with a sneer and snapped, "I'm seventeen years old and I have life insurance. I don't give a shit!" I was flabbergasted. Instead of just walking away though, I had to get in the last word. And instead of making it meaningful, or giving him something to think about I screamed "Well great! Next time I'll run your ass over then!!"
As I returned to my truck and frightened children he spat out, "Get back in your truck you fat old bitch!" I didn't throw it into reverse and run him over as I promised. I didn't drag his punk ass home to his momma. I didn't even say another word. (to him. I had full blown rages in my head) It was over and I was too confused and tired to try and reason with him. I vaguely remember being that age and I'm pretty sure I never would have spoken that way to an adult. Plus I'm not a fat old bitch. I'm young and hip...aren't I?
The truth is, I am old. Not in actual years, as I'm really only 27, but in the way I think and act. I realized this as was talking to my friend on the phone today. She is awaiting her first child and has been locked in her house. She's one day past her due date and her husband has visions of her delivering in a super market parking lot. "Isn't it amazing? she said. "This is my last Friday as a non-parent. I mean after we have her we'll never be anything but parents again." I didn't get all cynical and sarcastic like I wanted to. (thats not the only thing you'll never be again!) I remember that excited anticipation.
That conversation got me thinking though. Its not just the enormity of being a parent that's amazing. What is really amazing is how your brain changes after becoming a parent. Now I look at playgrounds as death traps. Bathrooms as germ pits of doom. I care about school districts and music funding. I get angry at children who aren't mine for endangering their lives. I know what their mother will feel if they are hurt.
I have realized that mentally I'm a 60 year old man. "Get off that tree branch ya whippersnapper! You'll break your gosh darn neck!" And really I'm okay with it. I'll keep my babies (and yours) as safe as I can. I'll be a fat old bitch who cusses at children, but doesn't run them over because she drives so carefully when her own kids are in the car. I'm a mother. And that's what mothers do.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Now made with 100% pure BS!
Have you noticed all the commercials for the "new and improved" products? I saw one last night for new Campbells Kettle Style soup. Apparently its made with pure bistro quality ingredients. (Whatever those are) Things are being made now with "pure" this and "organic" that. Heck even McDonalds had the huge ad run about their "all white meat chicken nuggets". It makes me wonder why that is a good thing?
You used to feed me crap. Not pure not organic crap. Not white meat chicken but some strange grey meat-like substance. And you freely admit it! "Now made with 100% white meat!" your ads proclaim. And I'm supposed to jump up and go "Yay lets go get some!"? Am I the only one who is offended by this? Am I the only one who thinks, "Wait a minute, then what were they before?"
You made your new baby bottles BPA free so my kid doesn't grow a second head! I say why weren't they BPA free to begin with? Why is it okay that you make low quality products before and now that you've improved it becomes a sales pitch? Its not a selling point. Its a shame! I love that admitting that you sold us garbage before and now don't is somehow supposed to make me trust your company more.
If my husband told me he'd been screwing another woman all these years but now he's totally commited to this relationship and ready to move forward with a normal life I'd leave him. (or kill him) If he said "Hunny I've been slowly poisoning you all these years but now I know you don't like it so I'm only gonna give you good things from now on." I'd have him arrested! (or kill him) However if a major company says crap like that in an ad to promote their product we run right out and buy it. Its insanity!
What has our country come to? We have schools where kids can't run on the playground. I know because my 7 and 8 year old can't. They have Walking Club. Oh boy! We have schools where a kid can't suck on a cough drop. I know because my 7 year old had to chew and swallow his before they'd let him in the front door. We have schools where drug education begins in pre-kindergarten and sex ed begins in fourth grade. I know because I had to listen to my tiny innocent children spout the "just say no" rhetoric and sing the drug free song.
We have a country where kids aren't allowed to be kids and companies can do whatever they want. It appears that this country is now made with 100% pure bull shit. And I really don't like the taste.
You used to feed me crap. Not pure not organic crap. Not white meat chicken but some strange grey meat-like substance. And you freely admit it! "Now made with 100% white meat!" your ads proclaim. And I'm supposed to jump up and go "Yay lets go get some!"? Am I the only one who is offended by this? Am I the only one who thinks, "Wait a minute, then what were they before?"
You made your new baby bottles BPA free so my kid doesn't grow a second head! I say why weren't they BPA free to begin with? Why is it okay that you make low quality products before and now that you've improved it becomes a sales pitch? Its not a selling point. Its a shame! I love that admitting that you sold us garbage before and now don't is somehow supposed to make me trust your company more.
If my husband told me he'd been screwing another woman all these years but now he's totally commited to this relationship and ready to move forward with a normal life I'd leave him. (or kill him) If he said "Hunny I've been slowly poisoning you all these years but now I know you don't like it so I'm only gonna give you good things from now on." I'd have him arrested! (or kill him) However if a major company says crap like that in an ad to promote their product we run right out and buy it. Its insanity!
What has our country come to? We have schools where kids can't run on the playground. I know because my 7 and 8 year old can't. They have Walking Club. Oh boy! We have schools where a kid can't suck on a cough drop. I know because my 7 year old had to chew and swallow his before they'd let him in the front door. We have schools where drug education begins in pre-kindergarten and sex ed begins in fourth grade. I know because I had to listen to my tiny innocent children spout the "just say no" rhetoric and sing the drug free song.
We have a country where kids aren't allowed to be kids and companies can do whatever they want. It appears that this country is now made with 100% pure bull shit. And I really don't like the taste.
Friday, February 10, 2012
So I started a blog...
After many suggestions from friends and family. "You should write this down!" "You should write a book, I'd read it!" I decided a blog was just about as much effort as I was willing to do at this point. I mean, I have three kids, (four if you count my husband) a college career I embarked on before I realized that it was actual work, and I'm supposed to throw in "me time" (whatever that is) for good measure. I'm busy. So busy in fact that I'm sitting here on my couch writing this and craving coffee but unable to wash out my cup and make it.
Actually I'm sitting here on my couch writing this and craving coffee instead of going to my college website and finding out which assignments I've missed and, you know, doing them. Did I mention I'm busy? Maybe the correct word is lazy. Although, I prefer the term "motivationally challenged".
So I've started a blog. I certainly have enough stories to fill it. Just this morning my daughter flopped across my back as I stretched across the bed loooking at facebook on my phone (see I'm busy!) and breathed her morning breath directly into my ear and nose. As I tried not to A) gag or B) toss her off me in a panic before gagging she proceeded to read the facebook feed and comment on everything she could see. Which just added more force to the morning breath fog she was covering me in. I asked her nicely to get off me as she was "hurting me". (more like burning my nostrils but I was being nice) So she sits up and begins to knead my lower back and butt. "Its like Jello!" Thawck slap. "Its like kneading bread dough!" Smack giggle.
Its 8 o'clock in the morning. I haven't had coffee yet. The baby has yet to make his sleepy whiny "moooommmmyyy.....ughhhhhhhh" entrance and I know as soon as I tell lil miss divalicious she needs to get dressed the war of the wardrobe will begin. I have neither the time or the patience for all that's about to ensue, let alone stopping the current insanity happening to my jiggly bread-like behind. And to be honest this is as close to a massage as I'll ever get. Just as I decide I can ignore the comments my middle son leaps onto the bed and begins to beat me like I'm a drum. He ended with a flourish that would have made any bongo player proud, but actually hurt like hell and had me leaping up and yelling like a harpooned whale.
This is how we began the morning routine of getting ready for school. Anyone else have one of those? And I don't mean a normal family one where everyone takes turns and doesn't have to be forced to brush their teeth like the toothpaste is full of arsenic. Ours goes a little something like this. "Get dressed and get ready for school. No you can't wear that/eat that/do that. Its almost time to go. Hurry up! No I don't know where your shoe is. Its time to leave. I'm leaving. I'm out the door. Get in the truck. Wait where's the baby? Why aren't your shoes on? You need a sweatshirt. Because you need one that's why. If it warms up you can take it off. I don't care what everyone else is wearing/eating/doing. We're gonna be late...we need to go. GET IN THE TRUCK. GET. IN. THE. TRUCK."
That happens every morning. And amazingly no one has been strangled or smacked senseless yet. (although I have thought about and threatened it) At any given moment I could describe my life as living in a circus or a zoo. Its insanity around here, but I love it. And I hope you enjoy reading about it.
Actually I'm sitting here on my couch writing this and craving coffee instead of going to my college website and finding out which assignments I've missed and, you know, doing them. Did I mention I'm busy? Maybe the correct word is lazy. Although, I prefer the term "motivationally challenged".
So I've started a blog. I certainly have enough stories to fill it. Just this morning my daughter flopped across my back as I stretched across the bed loooking at facebook on my phone (see I'm busy!) and breathed her morning breath directly into my ear and nose. As I tried not to A) gag or B) toss her off me in a panic before gagging she proceeded to read the facebook feed and comment on everything she could see. Which just added more force to the morning breath fog she was covering me in. I asked her nicely to get off me as she was "hurting me". (more like burning my nostrils but I was being nice) So she sits up and begins to knead my lower back and butt. "Its like Jello!" Thawck slap. "Its like kneading bread dough!" Smack giggle.
Its 8 o'clock in the morning. I haven't had coffee yet. The baby has yet to make his sleepy whiny "moooommmmyyy.....ughhhhhhhh" entrance and I know as soon as I tell lil miss divalicious she needs to get dressed the war of the wardrobe will begin. I have neither the time or the patience for all that's about to ensue, let alone stopping the current insanity happening to my jiggly bread-like behind. And to be honest this is as close to a massage as I'll ever get. Just as I decide I can ignore the comments my middle son leaps onto the bed and begins to beat me like I'm a drum. He ended with a flourish that would have made any bongo player proud, but actually hurt like hell and had me leaping up and yelling like a harpooned whale.
This is how we began the morning routine of getting ready for school. Anyone else have one of those? And I don't mean a normal family one where everyone takes turns and doesn't have to be forced to brush their teeth like the toothpaste is full of arsenic. Ours goes a little something like this. "Get dressed and get ready for school. No you can't wear that/eat that/do that. Its almost time to go. Hurry up! No I don't know where your shoe is. Its time to leave. I'm leaving. I'm out the door. Get in the truck. Wait where's the baby? Why aren't your shoes on? You need a sweatshirt. Because you need one that's why. If it warms up you can take it off. I don't care what everyone else is wearing/eating/doing. We're gonna be late...we need to go. GET IN THE TRUCK. GET. IN. THE. TRUCK."
That happens every morning. And amazingly no one has been strangled or smacked senseless yet. (although I have thought about and threatened it) At any given moment I could describe my life as living in a circus or a zoo. Its insanity around here, but I love it. And I hope you enjoy reading about it.
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