An ode to the stay-at-home mom

Like most mothers, I love my children with a fierce devotion that borders on psychosis.  I can imagine myself into crying spells over possible some day tragedies like my daughter being cut from the dance team or my son being teased for his love of shoes.  I actually have panic attacks when my son cries when I put him down for bed.  I kiss my daughter a thousand times a day and tell her I love her...

I, however, freely admit that I could never be a stay-at-home mom.  I think I'm able to adore my children so much because my time with them is limited.  I work full-time and there's nothing better than coming home to squeals of glee from my littlest loves, but those squeals quickly sound like screams when you're stuck inside with two under three all day.  So, when I learned that both my daytime care givers were going to be out of town the same week, I did what every loving mom would do.  I freaking panicked.  I don't "do" crafts.  I have limited patience with Dora, and while I am a master fort-builder, my 18 month old doesn't get not to pull the blankets down.

I have some ideas.  We're going to bake Christmas cookies one day, and I have resigned myself to cleaning during the two hour nap time to follow.  We're going to go for a freezing winter hike one day.  I'm sure that will waste all of 30 minutes.  It's too cold to spend hours at the zoo and Kaia has decided that she's deathly afraid of the museum.  She reminds me every day.  Today we did some shopping, just to get out of the house.

And this is why I could never be a stay-at-home mom.  We stopped at three stores.  The grocery store let them each take a balloon home.  Sure glad we stopped there first because you can imagine two children in car seats with helium balloons in and out of the car five times.  Oy.  I avoided all but three aisles at Target because I wasn't willing to have the "Santa's coming in a few weeks, so we're not getting anything" conversation today.  We got our groceries at the store, but I forgot two things I really wanted.  We enjoyed the pet store (and the cats are enjoying their catnip), but Kaia did not enjoy when we left twenty minutes after picking up said catnip.

So we got home, I threw some lunch on the stove and I sneaked off to the bathroom while the kids watched some Dora.  It was then that I realized that I was wearing a shirt with a hole in it, my underwear inside out and I had managed to leave my zipper undone.  Classy.  Thank goodness they're too little to be embarrassed by me.

The shit that happens at my house (when we're stuck inside all day)

The day started out rough.  Mikko was up before 5:00 a.m. for the second day in a row and he was C-R-A-N-K-Y.  When Mikko gets attention for whining, Kaia catches on quickly.  She's even taken to mimicking his non-word sounds to try and get her way.  It didn't take long before Mommy and Daddy were overwhelmed and feeling beaten by their greater (spastic) energy.  I'm not gonna lie, we pretty much let them do whatever kept them from crying all day....and so, our day in pictures, entitled "The Shit that Happens at My House (when we're stuck inside all day)"...

While I'm not huge into routine, I'm kind of a stickler for healthy eating and generally require that my children wear daytime clothes during the daytime.  Some day they'll wonder how my yoga pants qualify as "daytime clothes," but by then, I'm sure I'll come up with some explanation....probably "Because I said so."  So at some point I noticed that they were in their matching jammies (Kaia insists on having all the same feety pajamas as Mikko has) playing in Kaia's bed with a pumpkin bucket from Halloween that found its way back up from the garage recently and eating Reese's Pieces.  And, for what it's worth, it wasn't that early, but no doubt probably not an appropriate time for candy, like after they've at least had a meal.

There's really only one way to watch tv in this house....

 Well, alright, there are two ways, but both clearly involve laundry baskets.  And no, I don't get credit for my house being chaos because I was busy doing chores, like laundry, because I was not.  I was busy taking pictures of my nutjob kids, a most time-consuming hobby.

This was  the highlight of my night, probably because I had already started drinking wine at this point.  The kids pulled out every stored grocery bag we had in the house.  Kaia starts throwing them over her head yelling, "Snowing! Snowing!"  Kevin does NOT enjoy this game.  I LOVE it.  While I realize it's a pain in the ass and there's probably a choking hazard we should consider, they will play like this, uninterrupted and nicely for like 20 minutes.  Note that Kaia is wearing her Dorothy costume while Mikko is sporting the one-leg-up sweatpants thing.  My kids are COOL.

And just so there's no misunderstanding, this was about 15 minutes before Mikko's bedtime and, yes, they're eating cake.  There's no doubt these little rockstars are my kids.  They love cake.

So here's what I missed with my camera today.  Can you believe that with all this mayhem there's more that went uncaptured?  Not long after my grocery trip with Kaia that was cut short just after the produce section because someone decided to have a hissy fit and someone's mommy was NOT into dealing with it, I found the two of them spinning in circles in the living room.  They were giggling their tiny butts off when I realized that Mikko had a balloon string wrapped around his neck...twice....and when Kaia, who was holding the weight, spun, Mikko had to too.  I put a stop to that game and no one was happy about it.  Poor Mikko looks like a strangulation survivor.

I also managed to miss Mikko refusing to take his Tylenol, and by refusing, I mean getting all of it in his mouth and hanging his lower lip so that it all went running down his chin, neck and jammies.  It was like a horror flick in my living room.

And, last but not least, during her bath tonight, Kaia decided to test the faucet pressure with her tongue.  Imagine that first snowfall of the year and, like a child, you stick your tongue out with your eyes facing expectantly upward.  Now instead of a weightless snowflake landing on your tongue, picture a faucet running at full pressure down your throat.  There was much sputtering, eye watering and laughing.

I should start drinking at 4:30 every day.  Everything is so much more funny.

A quiet moment

I have a big trial today.  I'm not looking forward to it.  I've been at the office in the evenings or on weekends more in the last month than I have in probably my entire career put together.  I'm CRABBY!  Thankfully, it's all over after today (at least until the next big thing comes) and I'm looking forward to that.  In the meantime, I'm CRABBY!

This morning as I was getting my mini monsters ready, they were taking full advantage of their energy and my lack thereof.  I was at the office until 11:00 p.m. and up at 5:30 a.m.  It's going to be a long day and the games weren't nearly as funny this morning as they sometimes are...you know, on Saturdays when I have nothing to do.  So I finally get the kids dressed, pick up the oatmeal they refused to eat (much of which was on the floor when I came back into the room), wrangle them to put on shoes and jackets and strap them into their car seats.  Kev comes down to say goodbye and we took a moment next to the car.  He kissed me, I leaned into him, thankful that this day will be over soon and that he's remained patient with my obligations recently.  Both kids are looking at us curiously and I remarked, "Little monsters.  They're so cute when they're strapped into a car that I haven't gotten into yet."

They proceeded to scream and pout the entire way to Grandma's house.  At least, as like most things they do, they were playing.  

The playground and my blood pressure

The park.  This place is a child's dream and a parent's nightmare.  The super duper playground by our house has both a slide (yay) and an opening straight to the ground (damn) at every platform.  All.  Six. Platforms.

I'm not particularly religious, but places like this make me believe that there is someone out there pointing and laughing at me.  See, I was blessed with a very cautious little girl.  She's dainty, unless she's throwing shit, but for the most part, she's very careful.  I didn't make her that way.  In fact, I was a tree-climbing kind of kid and hope that mine will be too...you know, when they're older, won't fall and I don't have to watch.  Then I was blessed with a son who is, well, a boy.

So, picture this.  Kaia climbs up the low stairs with Mikko close behind.  Kaia climbs up the short ladder to the tunnel.  Mikko follows.  They stop in the center of the tunnel, I bang on the clear walls and get them good and riled up.  Then Kaia goes left and Mikko goes right.  Uh oh.  So I let Kaia be because she's less likely to walk off the edge of a platform without at least an attempt at holding on to the fireman's pole or monkey bars. I duck beneath the second tunnel to get to the platform between them before Mikko makes it to the edge.  Phew, I caught him before he dove and instead he dives into the second tunnel.  Meanwhile, Kaia is calling me because she wants me to catch her at the bottom of the slide.  I turn around to realize that she's at the top of a VERY high platform, the tallest at the park, and is literally so high that I'm a little sick to my stomach over it.  I imagine her terror (undoubtedly, delight) and rush over to where she's climbing into a gigantic tube slide.  I rush her because I have literally no idea where her brother is.  She finally comes down, her skinny little butt isn't heavy enough to propel her down and she has to scoot from about half way.  I see Mikko's head pop up out of the tunnel and, when he sees me, he turns and runs.  I run through the cedar chips, ducking to avoid, unsuccessfully, bumping my head on metal bars of various shapes, sizes and configurations.  I get to the opening where I last saw my little boy's floppy hair and big grin and he's no where to be seen.  Just then I hear banging on the clear plastic walls of one first tunnel that I had just run underneath.  Both little monkeys are inside, giggling their insane little heads off.

The kids love the playground, but Mommy's blood pressure can't handle it.  The only day I ever took them to the park by myself, when I finally got them safely strapped into their carseats, I sat in the front seat, turned the Disney CD up really, really loud, and balled my eyes out.  Being a mom is really hard.

Storms and such

I live in Wisconsin.  We don't generally play host to tropical storms or the dreaded hurricane.  We do get the occasional tornado, but since they're not named, they don't apply to this RANT.  This week, my house has been overtaken by Tropical Storm Kaia and Hurricane Mikko.  Not surprisingly, neither has been officially recorded, but I can attest to their existence.

Tropical Storm Kaia has been brewing for a while now.  She hasn't been sleeping well.  She's teething.  She's two...  It was inevitable.  This morning she told me, "Mommy, when I talk, you have to LISTEN TO ME!"  Um, okay, kid.  All day it was "No, Mommy" this and "No, Mommy" that.  She freaked when I took her jammies shirt off to change her into her clothes, then she freaked again when I took off her regular shirt to put back on her jammies shirt.  WTF is that!?  The swirling winds really picked up when mean mommy made homemade pizzas and tried to make her EAT IT!  I decided that I was boss and sat her in her chair despite her protests.  She screamed and cried for five minutes before I gave in and let her get down without even a bite.  Then she cried bloody murder because I wouldn't get up from the table.  After I finished eating, she cried for a sticker.  Then she got the sticker stuck on her play kitchen and cried for a new sticker.  She didn't want the new sticker because I cut it out instead of giving her the sticky side, trying to avoid a repeat of the original sticker's demise.  Seriously, child.  I got her juice, brushed her teeth, read her a story and had her in bed by a merciful 7:05 p.m.  She was crying again within 5 minutes.  I went in her room where she was still laying down and she said, "I want Dora."  I said, "Sweetie, you have Dora right here."  "I DON'T want Dora," she clarifies.  Alright, Kaia, I'll take Dora with me, but could you please sleep off whatever this attitude this is so that I don't lose my mind??

Ah, Hurricane Mikko.  I considered letting Mikko be the mild tropical storm and giving Kaia the title of "hurricane."  She kind of seems to deserve it.  Yet Mikko gave me his own version of crazy and it was quite a bit more destructive and stressful, so Hurricane Mikko it is.  So Mikko likes to be on the couch now.  He's a big boy, you know.  I watch him pretty carefully because he likes to stand and he's already taken a header off the couch.  Because I watch him so closely, I was a mere 12 inches from him when he bounced himself backward which propelled him forward.  Right. Into. The. Corner.  The arm of the couch is padded, but not on the very very very edge.  Instead, it's a wooden edge covered by suede fabric.  Little dude had a knot so big and blue that it made my stomach turn a little.  This morning he woke up with a broken blood vessel in his eye.  This afternoon I ran to find him crying because he had pinched his fingers in a drawer (and was holding the drawer closed on them with his other hand).  I rescued him from that and sent him on his way.  Not 30 seconds later, he was chewing on a screw he pulled from the wall.  Later, he went tearing up the stairs at Grandma's house and when she blocked those off with a gate, he started to climb the side of the stairs that is an open banister.  Hurricane Mikko.

So I'm taking the day off tomorrow and I wouldn't mind getting a mommy break, but as it happens, I'll be spending the day with my little loves.  If it's awful, I'll just consider it research.  Or normal.

Being THAT mom

No, I'm not that mom....but apparently my kid is that kid and she did it to a kid with that mom.  So Kaia and I are doing tots gymnastics this summer.  First, let me clear a few things up about tots gymnastics.  It is NOT the fast track to the US Olympic team, although I get the impression that the "big girls" who do handstands for the first 40 minutes we are there are probably in training.  It is NOT cartwheels, kips and Kasamatsus (I didn't make that last one up, that's actually a thing).  It is also NOT fun for Mommy.

See, in my head, everything Kaia and I do is fun because we do it together.  I really dig my kid.  She's funny.  In reality, though, lots of things we do also involve other people and I think a lot of other people suck.  I don't really have a sanctimommy routine, so bear with me as I sort out my judgment.  (I didn't make that up either, "sanctimommy" has graced the pages of both the New York and Washington Times!  Google it, I bet you know one.)

Some of the parents hover around their kids saying things like, "You gotta suck it up, honey, you're a big boy/girl," and "If you don't listen to teacher and follow the circuit, we'll go home," and "Why do I pay for this if you refuse to participate?"  Now, all these kids are 18-36 months, and while she's a pretty smart cookie, I suspect Kaia doesn't know what a "circuit" is, nor does she understand the concept of paying for something, but whatevs.  Perhaps some of the 36-monthers do.  My kid usually cooperates because she's glued to my side and I think it's fun to walk across the beam and hop hop hop across the numbered floor.  In their defense, it would be hard for some of the mothers to hop in their high heels and skirts (no joke) and the one nanny always seems pretty tired.  These mommies are not having fun.

Then there are the two boys.  The two sweet little 18 month boys who are both too young and far too rambunctious to really do what they're "supposed" to do.  The boys' mommies aren't having fun because they're never there.  In fact, both boys come with their dads, which I think is AWESOME!  Those poor dads always look terrified of the other moms and I think they should be.  So am I.

Finally, there are the kids.  See, this entry isn't all about judging moms.  I judge kids too.  There is, in particular, one kid, the kid, who continuously messes with the blocks.  The kids are given blocks to carry across the beam (to encourage them not to hold mommy or daddy's hand, I assume) and stack at the end.  This kid lurks at the end of the beam and knocks down the tower the other kids make or grabs the blocks out of their hands as they pick one to carry across.  I've never noticed her mom before (because she never attempts to stop her at the end of the beam).  Until Friday.

So last class, like at the end of every class, the kids are allowed to jump on the trampoline.  This time, though, they got to bounce down the tumble tramp.  It's a long, somewhat narrow trampoline used for mastering skills in a floor tumbling pass.  So, the little kids usually just run down it.  The big kids bounce down it with their feet together.  Kaia usually bounces down it on her butt.  I taught her that.  Nice, right?  It was a good idea when they were jumping on the regular trampoline and not expected to make forward progress.  Oh well.  Live and learn right?  Lesson:  No butt drops until you KNOW they're not going to be going on the tumble tramp during this session...

So Kaia is bouncing her little butt down the tramp and Block Girl comes tearing up behind her.  Kaia stands up and BOOM! knocks right into the little girl.  I say "boom," but for real, it was like she stood up and they bumped heads.  There was no skull cracking, no hysteria.  In fact, I think the other little girl was still standing and Kaia landed back on her butt, which was probably just fine as far as she was concerned.  Oh, but the hysteria came.

Block Girl goes nuts crying.  Block Mom says she's sorry and makes Block Girl say she's sorry.  I also apologize and a few seconds later Kaia said, "I'm sorry," to her and followed that up with, "It's okay, Mommy.  She'll be happy soon."  But she was not.  In fact, she was so tremendously upset over the incident that they left before class was over, which is a big deal because you get a stamp on your hand AND a coloring page.

Okay, so the 3 year old overreacted, what's my beef, right?  Block Mom must have said, at least three times to no one at all, "Oh, she's going to have a black eye now."  "Look at that.  It's going to be a black eye, I'm sure of it."  "Yep, that's definitely going to be a black eye."  Seriously, Block Mom?  No wonder your kid just went bonkers because she bumped her head.  You're lucky my kid didn't intentionally knock your kid down, like your kid knocks down the block tower, when your kid stole my kid's block at the end of the balance beam.  BOOM.

So, no, I'm not that mom.  I genuinely felt bad that they had a collision.  I made sure my kid said sorry too.  It wasn't anyone's fault.  Kids fall down sometimes.  Kids bump heads sometimes.  Shit, kids in gymnastics tear callouses, break bones and tear ligaments sometimes.  Unfortunately, my butt bouncing goofball managed to bump into a kid who has a crazy mom, that mom.

Sadly, we don't have class this week, so I don't get to gloat when the kid comes to class without that dreaded black eye.  Bummer.

How many times can you say "Mommy" today?

Today I challenged Kaia to say "Mommy" 1000 times.  I'm pretty sure she met and exceeded that figure.  No, I am not a tiger mom attempting to give my child goals to achieve in preparation for the grueling future I have planned for her.  Instead, since she had already "mommied" me a few hundred times in the car that morning, I figured I'd find some positive spin.  Give the kid an achievable goal, right?

Jesus.  I swear to you she said "Mommy" a hundred times in 30 minutes.  "Mommy, look."  "Mommy, call Kaia."  "No, Mommy, no!"  "Mommy, what are you doing?"  "Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy...."  The latest is that I am not allowed to speak to anyone else in the car.  She says, "Mommy, no calling Poppy.  Call Kaia."  "Mommy, no calling Daddy.  Mommy wants to call Kaia."  I don't know how she decided that speaking in the car was considered "calling," but that's her thing.  I'm not allowed to call anyone but her.  She wants me to look at everything she's doing (and everything she puts in her mouth, incidentally).  She just likes to hear herself say "Mommy."

I'm pretty sure she drained the ever-living-mommy out of me today.  Thank goodness for grandparents, baseball and beer.  Hopefully I can find my mommy pants tomorrow morning because I think there'll be some "Mommy" in my future.