Sleep Walker

So it’s been a hot minute since I posted something wise and insightful for all you mommies out there. I mean, pretty sure I’ve NEVER posted anything wise and insightful on this here blog given I have no clue what I’m doing over here in the parenting department but anywho yesterday I said I was gonna blog so here I am doing it, a day late… go figure.
In the almost six months since I last posted my kid has started school (ER-MA-GAWD) and boycotted sleeping. We went from bragging about how badass of a sleeper she was to dealing with an ass who’s sleeping is bad. I’m preeeeeetty sure that’s called karma but I could be wrong. 

I dont want to point the finger here (finger directly pointed at my husband) but Em was sleeping perfectly fine until I took a fantastic girls weekend (AKA mommymoon) and left her with el Daddio. P.S. That was in July. In his survival mode state he let her sleep in our bed all weekend and whatdayaknow she kind of liked it! So now we’re stuck negotiating with her every night, like a freaking terrorist, trying to get her to sleep in her own effin bed that she “DOESN’T YIKE!” 

Promptly upon my return I started tough and laid the hammer down. I told her she was sleeping in her bed and that was that! I felt strong, Momma was home and shit was going back to normal. Then after about 15 minutes of her yelling “MOMMY’S MEEM, I WANT DADDY!” I caved and told her she could lay in our bed for “FIVE MINUTES and then she had to sleep in her bed.” Well five minutes turned into 10, and 10 into 20 and before I knew it she was sleeping in the damn bed with us for 3 weeks straight. Now if you have never slept in the bed with a toddler, consider yourself lucky. It’s like sleeping next to that very drunk best friend you had to take care of in college. You know the one that keeps randomly throwing karate kicks and high V’s all night. And if you’re reaaaally lucky they’ll give you a 3am bed pissing to get your blood flowing. The best part is that I would wake up halfway through the night to find my adorable husband had snuck off to the guest room and left me with the kickboxing queen. I mean he only created this situation, why stick around when it gets tough. After a week or two of getting the shit beat out of me I decided I couldn’t do it anymore and I told her I would lay with her in her bed but she could not lay in ours. Not sure who I was punishing with that one but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I laid in her bed till she fell asleep and then snuck out. Well as soon as she would wake up and realize I wasn’t there, she would come get me and then the cycle would repeat. ALL.NIGHT.LONG! And now instead of getting beat up all night long I’m dealing with her tiny ass creeping into my room and scaring the piss out of me every two hours. 

I don’t care what anyone says there is nothing scarier than being woken up out of a dead sleep to a small child standing next to your bed staring at you. The other night, in the pitch dark she came crawling, CRAW-LING into my room, with her long dark hair and I swear to God I thought I was about to get swallowed up like in that movie The Grudge. 

Me: (Gasping and possibly pissing myself) Em hun, you gotta get up.

Emmie: Why?

Me: Because you’re really creeping mommy out.

Each night I say I’m gonna do it and stick to my guns, tonight is the night I stand firm and won’t let her sleep in our room and then 3 am rolls around and in my half asleep stupor I fling her into our bed and wave the white flag. Because shitty sleep is still better than no sleep. But tonight, well tonight… I think I may just have to sneak off to that magical guest room and leave the creepy little wake up calls to the instigator himself.

I mean, you can’t help Karma people…

just ask Brad Pitt. 😉

Mother’s Weekend

So Mother’s Day is right around the bend and because I am a mom to a very “spirited” toddler I think I speak for mothers everywhere when I say … we deserve more than ONE day!

We put in 365 days of physical and emotional work as a mother. That’s 24 hours a day and 7 days a week. Exhausted is just a state of being at this point and yet we get one day, ONE measly day to be recognized for our actions. The fact is that we are so damn exhausted from the week that by the time the end of the weekend rolls around we cant even enjoy Mother’s Day and because some GENIUS decided to put it on a Sunday instead of a Saturday getting drunk isn’t even an option. Thanks a lot!

Don’t get me wrong I appreciate the fact that we even get a day to be celebrated at all but the cold hard truth is I am tired AF and would love some time to myself, and lately that shit just doesn’t happen. I mean I can’t remember the last shower or bathroom break I took without Emerson. So my proposal is this… I think it needs to be changed to “Mother’s Weekend” and the entire weekend be focused on the pampering of all the fierce Mommas out there. A weekend full of rest and relaxation and showing the mom in your life exactly how much her hard work and patience means to you. Not with a card or a bouquet of flowers but by leaving her the eff alone.

And just in case anyone needs help filling the space for “Mothers Weekend” here are some sure-fire things that I think all moms would love:

1. A reason to leave the house that does not include the grocery store or a child activity. Plan something fun for that amazing momma in your life. The fact that she gets to leave the house to do something besides watch as her child screams down the aisles at your local Harris Teeter will be the highlight of MW (Mothers Weekend, I am abbreviating it now).
2. A reason to wear real pants and lip gloss. This goes with #1. Pick a place that she can actually change out of her “mom clothes” and be that sexy woman she used to be before kids ruined her wardrobe and cool-factor.
3. Give us wine. Because we deal with your kid all day long, we need a drink. This seems self-explanatory.
4. Let us sleep. For once when the kid gets up in the middle of the night intercept her and let us sleep. And to top it off when that same kid comes strolling in at 6:45am grab them and go downstairs so we can sleep-in. Extra sleep = day made.
5. Cook for us. On MW we don’t want to have to prepare any meals so do your best Top-Chef and cook for us. We promise we wont be as picky as you are, the sheer fact that someone besides “Chic-fi-la” is preparing our meal is enough to make MW the best moment of our lives.
6. Pick up after yourself. Just like cooking, we also do not want to clean on MW so make a point to pick up all the shit you have strategically placed around the house knowing we would pick up. Just pretend that a famous sports star is coming to visit you. So make the house look nice for them… and us.
7. Some time alone with ourselves. Take the kid and let us sit on the couch and watch the Real Housewives uninterrupted. Let us catch up on all the trash tv that we never get to watch since we usually are forced to watch Frozen on loop or that bitch Peppa Pig with her annoying little accent. Bring on the trash-talking cat fights and Teen Mom reruns while I sit and stuff my face on the couch.
8. Take kid duty. On MW we want you to take the parenting reigns. Plan the activities, keep them occupied, get them dressed, bathed, fed and put them to bed. MW is our “time-off” so you’re in the driver seat. Having to not wipe one ass is quite possibly the best gift there has ever been given.
9. Let us pamper ourselves. A trip to the nail or hair salon is few and far between these days, so the ability to go spend a few hours at the hair salon and get those roots done that we have neglected for the past (oh I don’t know) 6 months, would be EVE.RY.THING!
10. Thank us. We know you appreciate us, we know you love us, but every once in a while it feels pretty effin awesome to hear your husband tell you how badass you are. So on MW tell that pretty momma of yours just how fan-effin-tastic she is. Smother her in compliments and make sure you let her know that her hard work does NOT go unnoticed because at the end of the day all anyone really wants is to be appreciated. And an entire weekend spent being complimented on how dope of a mom you are is a pretty dope weekend.

So Happy Mother’s Weekend to all my fierce mommas. I know this job is far from easy. We work for tiny little tyrants and get paid jack shit but the good days always out weigh the bad and the rewards make it all worth it. So enjoy your weekend, you have definitely earned it!

And don’t worry there is only 363 more days till the next Mothers Weekend.

Crying in the Cart

Two is the age that everybody warns you about and you sort of nod your head and think “that won’t be my sweet little darling” until the day comes and right before your very eyes your innocent princess turns into a little a-hole. Yes, I just called my kid an a-hole because honestly 50% of the time these days thats exactly what she acts like. Two is an evil age that sucks the very being out of your child and makes them act like they have been possessed.

Case in point, the other day I went to the grocery store with Em and she happened to see one of those massive carts with the car attached to the front. You the know the ones… they have the tiny ass cart attached and no room for groceries because the car is so effing huge. And navigating them around a grocery store is near impossible so you end up knocking shit off the shelves left and right. Evidently a man designed that thing, you know, “the bigger, the better!” Well she saw one. And then just as quickly as she saw it a lady and her son grabbed it. I immediately did a happy dance in my head for dodging the “car cart” shopping trip but my happiness faded seconds later when I realized I was dealing with a stage 5 meltdown.

Now, I debated leaving but we were out of milk… and ice cream so it was necessity. I pulled out all of my tricks, lollipops, the iPad, I said I would get her something “reaaaaaaaally cool” from the grocery store if she stopped crying but she was still pissed. I started to try and put her in the regular old cart at this point and she went completely straight leg on me. It was like trying to work a jackhammer. Moms are walking by and giving me the “your kid is terrible” look and then moms (with a-hole toddlers too) are giving me the “been there done that” look.. I finally got her into the cart and at this point I am sweating… its 32 degrees out and I was stripping in front of the Harris Teeter.

We start walking in and she sees those effing gumball machines with toys inside them and starts screaming that she “NEEDS ONE” I know I’m not supposed to cave to this behavior but I really just wanted to get into the damn store at this point so I start digging in my purse. I was struggling to find a quarter when a man handed me one. How sweet huh? He must’ve witnessed “cart-gate” and felt sorry for me.  I let her pick and we got the toy and life was good again. I even managed to make it halfway through the store without any more incidents until it happened … we ran into the damn “Car Cart” and just like that all of the trauma came rushing back to her. She screamed the rest of  the time until I got her back into the car and then like magic she was fine. The “car cart” brings out the evil in my child.

I’ve decided that in the future when I go grocery shopping, I am going to bring lots of quarters…

and a blind fold!

Just Snow Away!

So here’s the deal… I actually really like snow, or did. I was totally amped up when my “weather freak” husband was running around this house last week shouting out things like “Blizzard” and “record-breaking snowfall amounts” I even got gitty at one point. But now, well now those words are evil. We are on day FIVE of what is being referred to as Snowzilla and rightfully so. That bastard rolled into town Friday night and ripped every shred of independence and freedom I had. Our streets have yet to be plowed. Well except for the one pass through we got because Bobby had someone from his work come out and attempt to free us. It didn’t work. I’m still here.

If this was 3 years ago I probably would be relishing in the fact I was trapped in my house and couldn’t do anything or go anywhere. No responsibilities, WOOHOOO!  Well, shit is a lot different these days and I have one very active responsibility. Being snowed in with a toddler is a lot like watching a pinball machine. That thing shoots up and bounces around, dinging off of everything in its path until finally it just crashes to the bottom until you reload it and it starts all over again. Well five days of pinball and I’m officially done. I need out. I need civilization. For God’s sake I need Target. I feel like I have been buried alive in this house.

I’ve tried everything I possibly can to keep Em entertained. We’ve baked, we’ve played dress-up, we’ve watched Frozen (698 times), we’ve done crafts; we’ve gone in the evil snow everyday (twice a day – sometimes more), we’ve made snow ice cream. I legit don’t have anymore fun in me. Things got so bad inside that I actually opted to go shovel mass amounts of snow yesterday versus being inside with Emmie. My back was breaking but I could hear the chaos from the window and I just kept telling myself “you can do this, this is easier!” Bobby kept coming out to tell me that I didn’t have to do that much and I could come in, but I’m no fool, I knew he just wanted me to relieve him of “pinball” duty.

Now there was some talk of another possible snow storm this weekend and I don’t want to be dramatic but if that happens I may just have to hitch a ride with a snow plow (if they ever come) and fly to someplace tropical. Sorry Emmie, mommy will write.

 

Buggin’ Out

So last week we got hit pretty hard in our house with a vicious stomach bug. Everyone got it. EVERY.ONE! It did not discriminate. Emmie brought it into our home last Saturday (kids and their damn germs). It was actually her first time being REALLY sick and it was just as sad and upsetting as I thought it was going to be. She woke up at 5 in the morning gagging and I ran in to see what was happening when all of a sudden she started vomiting like the exorcist. I changed her and brought her into the bed with Bobby and I and where she then proceeded to taint our bed for the next hour or so. I had my sister’s Baby Shower that day so Bobby was on his own. I hated leaving my sick baby and Bobby looked pretty nervous about it all too but I figured he had it covered. He was awesome and took great care of her. The next day (after 14 barfs later) she was back to her crazy self.

  
Tuesday was Bobby’s birthday, Emmie and I had lots planned and we were super excited for a fun night celebrating him. I rolled over in the morning and looked at my clock to see that it was almost 7:00AM. Bobby was still sleeping and I jumped up to tell him he was late. He moaned something about not feeling good and how he couldn’t get up. Victim #2 had been hit. Happy Birthday Bobby! All day he was miserable, confined to the bed and unable to eat. What a terrible birthday. It took almost three days for him to finally start feeling better.

On Wednesday my mom called me and said that she was sick too and that my dad was at work and he was getting sick but wouldn’t leave work (he’s kind of a tough ass). Victims #3 & 4. Their’s lasted until Friday.

Thursday night I started feeling really nauseous and I just knew that my time was coming. I had tried everything to avoid it but it was inevitable. I lysol’ed the eff outta the house, I incessantly washed my hands, and I was popping Air Borne like they were candy. But lo and behold that germy little leech of mine had managed to get me after all. And now I was down for the count with no one to help. Victim # 5 had been struck. Friday I woke up so tired and weak that Bobby came home from work to help me (awwwwwwww!) and then my amazing in-laws took Em overnight Friday and Saturday.

While Bobby and I were watching a movie on one of those “kid-free” nights enjoying some R&R we heard a really strange noise and looked over to see Ginger puking EVERYWHERE!!!! And then sitting in it.

And there’s your Victim # 6!

Mother of the Year

On a given day there are probably hundreds of things I could do better as a mom. I have never claimed to be a perfect mother and I know I never will be.

Here are just a few of the things that I did wrong last week:

1.) I replied “a duck” every single time Emmie asked “whats that?” throughout the day. And since it’s her new favorite phrase, it was about three thousand times.

2.) I fed Emmie Lucky Charms for breakfast because I was too tired to make anything else. And then I was annoyed that she wouldn’t take a nap later on… hmmmm! wonder why?

3.) I asked Bobby if he would put Emmie to bed because I needed to finish cleaning the kitchen and then I sat on the couch and watched Teen Mom instead of cleaning.

4.) I handed Emmie the iPad, pulled up “Wheels on the Bus” on YouTube and propped her up on her bean bag chair in my office so that I could get my work emails out.

5.) I watched her unroll the toilet paper and then walked out of the room because I knew Bobby was the one putting her to bed and would have to clean it up. #notmyproblem.

6.) I told Emmie my dinner was “Caca” so I wouldn’t have to share it. And she believed me.

7.) I purposely showed up 10 minutes late to Em’s Little Gym class the other day so I wouldn’t have to worry about wrangling her during the organized group activity while all the other mommies stare at me and my disobedient child.

8.) I didn’t give Emmie her bedtime bath the other night because Grey’s had already started and I knew I didn’t have enough time for the entire bath/bed routine. Greys > Hygiene

9.) I played hide and seek with Em and just kept telling her to hide so momma could come find her. When really I was just enjoying the 30 second intervals between her running away and coming back. It was like little bits of relaxation.

10.) I made Emmie wear these new sandals last weekend because they went perfectly with her outfit and the whole time we were out she kept saying “Boo Boo”. Then at the end of the day when I took them off she had a huge blister on her foot. WHOOPS!

Sitting here thinking about all of these things I started to beat myself up over them. Then I told myself that I am doing the best I can and that’s all I can do. I’m pretty sure Emmie doesn’t notice any of these. But what she does notice is that I am always there and that I love her endlessly. I would go to the end of the earth for her and I think that is what being a mother truly is about. Putting someone else before yourself. Like any good mom I have good days and I have bad days. But the bad days do not define me as a mother. I think that is an important lesson for all of the mommas out there. We are allowed to be human and feed them the Lucky Charms every once in a while. Because when it comes down to it, our kids know we love them and would move mountains and (sugar covered) rainbows to make them happy.

So hang in there Mommas. Being a mom is the hardest job on earth, we are more than entitled to some perfectly imperfect days. Happy Mother’s Day to all of you!