Daring Young Mom

-House painted the color of Kraft Carmels and pumpkin pie. Yum.

-Decision made to try NANOWRIMO again when my kids are old enough for me to do it AND maintain my sanity. Sigh of relief.

-Laylee taken to the ER of Children’s Hospital on doctor’s orders. No good.

-Cleaned buckets of vomit out of car. Why did we opt not to take the ambulance again? No comment.

-Release from the hospital with semi-clean bill of health. Grateful.

-Thanksgiving with good friends, none of whom have children. Good times, great food, fun conversation.

-Time for our departure signaled by Laylee spilling beverage on host’s wireless keyboard. Sticky.

-2-year-old vomits buckets on white carpet of host, one inch from hardwood front entry on our way out the door. Cleaning bill to come.

-Falling down at midnight while getting ready for big shopping day, deciding to shop rather than see a doctor about my foot. Not smart, but very typical.

-Getting up at 4:00am to shop till I dropped. Invigorating.

-The deals, the glorious deals. Yippee!

-Bed and looking forward to a day of vomit-free relaxation tomorrow. Ahhhhh!

Sorry for this pathetic list. I promise I’ll be back soon with new info and some fun stories. ER, yadda, vomit, yadda holiday blah blah, nearly-broken-foot-that-still-hurts-to-put-weight-on blah blah …. Excuses, excuses.

We have so much to be grateful for. I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Strangely enough, I did.

I saw this picture on a website advertising home loans recently.

1. Why didn’t anyone tell us a clandestine cameraman was taking our picture when we signed our first Mortgage?

2. Why did they change our hair colors in post-production and Photoshop all that extra arm hair on Dan? I mean, come on, he’s manly enough as it is. Let’s not get gratuitous here.

3. Why was no one there to photo document our recent refinance? I was laughing so hard at that signing that I couldn’t reach for Dan’s fur-covered arm in time. I fell flat on my face on the mahogany desk of our closing agent, smashing it into a million pieces and scattering papers everywhere, in a fit of hysterical I-can’t-believe-we’re-getting-such-a-great-deal-on-this-fabulous-mortgage-product laughter.

Now THAT would have been a great picture to show the joy of the home loan process, me lying in a pile of papers and rubble, snorting like a pig, while giddy Dan picked wood-chips out of my hair with abandon.

She emerged timidly from her room this morning, unsure of the reception she would receive. Her face just melts me.

Love, hugs and cuddling. A serious talk about what she did, why we were upset, what the consequences will be. She lays her head against my chest and I stroke her hair.

I cried for a long time last night when she was finally asleep. I wanted my mommy.

“They” say ”˜you hurt the ones you love the most.’
I say ”˜you are hurt the most by the ones you love.’

If I didn’t give everything, mind body and soul for these kids, it wouldn’t hurt so much when they gave me that mocking look, the look that says, “I don’t need you. I can do what I want. Shove it, mom!”

I question everything. Everything about being a mother makes me question myself, my preconceptions, my feelings, my treatment of the kids. Am I saying the right things, being too rough, too lenient? Will some flippant comment I make be the subject of therapy years from now? Or will it be something I didn’t say or do, but should have?

We’re making people here, folks. This is serious business.

The DYM ain’t laughin’ today. I’m not crying either, just thinking.

Join me fellow witchy moms and we’ll take this baby for a spin. I am so mad right now, I can hardly type this post. However, doing so will keep my sweet little this-close-to-being-sold-to-the-next-group-of-traveling-gypsies daughter from being flung from the house.

Currently I am self-medicating with Dryer’s mint chocolate chip slow-churned. Dan’s drug of choice is Tums.

I have seriously never wanted to kick someone’s trash the way I want to right now and she’s laughing at me, no remorse whatsoever.

For the past two weeks, Laylee has decided that she’s potty trained. No more duct tape at night, no more diapers. I rarely even ask her if she has to go anymore. She just does. Amazing. I told a friend on Friday that we are on the downward slope of a very bratty 3 month period. We were glad to be on the downward slope.

Tonight this all changed. She is going to be 3 years old in a couple of months. She is very mature and usually well behaved for her age. She knows what we expect. Today signs of bratishness have abounded and it has worried me greatly.

Tonight when we put her in bed, she did this AGAIN! ONLY WORSE! She ground it so deep into the carpet that in certain places, we couldn’t get it out. We’re going to need professional help (take that however you want to).

It was in her hair, under her fingernails, EV-ER-Y-WHERE! Nothing we did could stop her from smiling. I scrubbed her down mercilessly with ice-cold water. I washed her hair with it and poured it over her head (to her, the worst kind of torture).

Still the smirk remained.

We made her sit in time out while we spent ½ an hour attempting to scrub the poop from the fibers of our semi-shag carpet.

We took away Ducky.

We took away starshine (a star lamp that she loves).

We removed every toy and fun wall hanging from her room (this sounds more dramatic than it really is. The room is being painted on Monday so we had to do this anyway. Good thing too because I couldn’t get all the poop out of the texturing on her wall. I guess they will just paint over it.).

Still the smirk remained.

We told her that because she was acting like a baby, she would have to wear diapers like a baby, not just today but tomorrow too, to church, with her friends, where they would all be wearing big kid panties and wouldn’t that be sad?

Still the smirk remained.

We told her maybe she wouldn’t get to go to nursery tomorrow (to her, the happiest place on earth).

Still the smirk remained.

She now lays in a deserted whoville-esque room of sadness but there is no crying, only smirking. The whole house smells like poop. I didn’t get to take a relaxing bath, work on NANOWRIMO, get through some paperwork that’s been stacking up, cuddle with my shmoop, eat bon bons or travel to Europe.

Nope. All I got to do was be a mom. Some days it’s glorious and some days it bites the big one. Tonight I got option B.