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Month: April 2004

Friday? You sure it’s not Monday?

Friday? You sure it’s not Monday?

It’s storming here.

There are kids here that are not mine.

My head still hurts. (Yes, since Monday. Nonstop. All the time.)

Would you all mind if I just go crawl in bed and dazzle you with my brillance tomorrow?

If you must read something I wrote (Don’t you love how I flatter myself?), head over to DotMoms. I had a chance to post an entry there this morning. No, I am not cheating on you here. I am contributing there. Really. I love you best!

doggyheadache.jpg

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Maternal Confession

Maternal Confession

I have a confession to make. I am ashamed to admit it. I said something to my child that I swore I would never say. (While we are on the topic, it really is important that you realize the dangers of saying “I’ll never…” when it comes to childrearing. Seriously. There are factors and fates at work that will immediately align things just right so that before you know it, you will discover that you have in fact done your “I’ll never…” proclamation. Trust me. This is a proven scientific fact.)

Okay, on to the confession.

Please don’t judge me harshly. I mean, I heard it so much growing up, it was bound to slip out accidentally. Ready?

Kidlet Jr. was begging and bugging and begging again to do something that just was not going to happen. I gave him legitimate reasons. The bugging continued. I gave him logical reasons. The begging ensued. I flat out said that it was not going to happen. And then it began. The “why nots”. I truly despise the “why nots”, especially after I have given an answer. After being driven to the edge of sanity, I actually looked my dear sweet boy, my precious offspring and said to him…

“Because I am the Mother. That’s why!”

Oh sure, you think you’re above it. You swore it would never happen to you. And there it is. Out there with no way to snatch it back. Like a cartoon bubble hanging over you in silence. Ohhhh, the shame!

Mark my words, I’ll never say that again! Uh-oh, did I just say that?! Damn!

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No really. There needs to be a manual

No really. There needs to be a manual

Today after playing my 785th game of Hungry, Hungry Hippos I began to wonder if there is a manual or rulebook somewhere that tells you at what point you have qualified as the “good and involved” mom and you get to quit this kind of game of torture. Is there a certain point where you get to say (if only to yourself) “Look! I reached the pinnacle of good mom for the day and don’t have to play this god-awful game anymore. Time for Oprah.”

Because really, at some point you have to have earned enough points to not feel guilty for quitting. If it were up to the toddler, you would play until the game either broke or you had a break-down. With this game , it is a toss-up over which would happen first.

Finally this afternoon, having no access to such a manual, I was nearly giddy with glee when I noticed that it was almost time for the boys to get home from school. As soon as they walked in (and I mean that literally. The backpacks were not even taken off yet) I happily said to Little Diva, “Ohhh look! Your brothers are home. They want to play with you! It’s their turn now!” She eagerly gave them the look that they cannot resist and they begrudgingly sat down to play the game.

Meanwhile, I tried hard to conceal my deliriously thankful smile as I grabbed my cup of coffee and ran quickly to hide in my room with my book. Did I feel at all guilty for passing the buck and basically trapping the boys into a marathon session of this horrible game?

Not one bit. Each man for himself and I had managed to escape.

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Now this will wake somebody up!

Now this will wake somebody up!

It appears that Buzz is having one of those “I just can’t” kind of days. Well, I can’t have that. I surely don’t want our Buzz to be in a funk. And since we all know what can make our guy a happy guy, I must repay the favor he did for me. So, for your approval (or not), I present to you my gift to Buzz.

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The phone conversation

The phone conversation

I recently had a phone conversation with a good friend of mine. A good friend who is single and has no children. (Which is how she wants it and loves it.) There was a time when I thought we had so much in common. Today, it is as if we are living on two separate planets.

I listened to her talk about her new apartment. She found a fabulous loft in the downtown area. She regaled me with tales of the incredible art pieces that she been able to acquire for the loft. I looked around my humble home and took an inventory of the artwork that adorned it. A finger-painting masterpiece by an as-yet undiscovered 3-year-old genius. A cracked clay sculpture that is either an ashtray (although none of us smoke) or a cat. We’re not sure which it is, so we use it as a centerpiece on the side table. A charcoal sketch (okay, it is actually a pencil drawing) of a dog chasing a ball (or a horse chasing a bird. It’s not really clear.) Hers cost a fortune. Mine are priceless.

She went on to talk about her new glass top tables and beautiful plush white carpet. I began to trace the fading outline of a stick person and his dog that my son had drawn on my old coffee table when he was two years old. It is fading and that actually made me sad. I began to wonder if I could put something on it to preserve it when my friend asked me if I knew of any good over the counter carpet cleaners since she “may need it one day”. I glanced down at my Kool-Aid stained and well worn carpet and replied, “Not one that can get out Kool-Aid and permanent markers.” She laughed in a way that told me she thought I was trying to be funny. I chuckled with her so as to not ruin her illusion of my home with a clean carpet.

Finally, she asked me what was new in my world. I ran through the things that had been big news in our house that week. My youngest used the potty at least once everyday. We are celebrating with dances and candy! And there was a new McDonald’s down the street that had a playplace with both tunnels and video games, so I can take all 3 kids and they are all happy. Oh, and my oldest son has a crush and he thinks she may like him back. My middle boy, the one who wears his heart on his sleeve, finally stood up to the class bully and made a new friend because of it. We were all so proud of him.

“But what about you, Jenn. What is new with you?”

I paused and thought. Then replied, “But don’t you see? That is what is new with me. All of these milestones are milestones for me too. It means they are growing up and becoming their own people. Good people. That means, I am doing a pretty damn good job of this parenting thing right now.”

She got quiet. She thought about my life. She thought about how different we are. How our lives are so foreign to each other.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she said almost sadly.

I smiled to myself and replied, “I don’t know how you don’t.”

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Mmmm Matthew!

Mmmm Matthew!

Today has been…a Monday.

I woke up early this morning with a migraine. Nothing like waking up with a splitting headache to start your day off. Then we had to carpet cleaned. So, basically, it has been a day of keeping Little Diva occupied and off of any area that is carpeted. Not an easy task in a house that is 90% carpet. (Although, it did also mean that I could put a “No Showings” message on the house for the day. That was nice!)

I did manage to do a bit of blog surfing, though. My head was just too much of a mess to be able to enjoy much of anything. (Especially nasty, oiled up, way too repulsive body builders.) So, imagine my surprise and delight to see a very special post just for me. Thanks, Buzz! You made my night. (My Matthew can always bring a smile to my face.) Perfect choice to please both you and me!

(Although Clint said I need to stop drooling because I may short out my keyboard.)

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