It is rare that I write two blogs in one week, let alone two in one day. I need to vent. Tonight I was a bad parent. My self control was tested by a seven year old and she bested me. Now don't worry - I didn't beat her or call her names. I did yell at her (which I hardly ever do) and I spanked her when she was doing this screaming freak out thing. Then as I held her tight while we stood in the middle of the kitchen, my mind came back to me and I put her to bed. What could cause such a outlandish scene of events? Uncut toe nails.
I believe that every kid has a vice. Something that invokes this irrational fear every time and you know that it is just going to be a battle. Natalia hates getting her toe nails cut. Think of it as her flavor of kryptonite. Jeremy will tell you it is because I cut them too short, but I leave her nails a little on the long side because of this very fear. I have to say that I love short nails. They are clean and neat looking and I usually cut mine shorter than I should. I also have a track record of bleeding dogs half to death with my skills, so I can see where Jeremy would get that idea. You would think he would be captain of the toe nail team. Nope. It still falls on me.
To make things worse, of all the features Natalia has gained from Jeremy, she has Lacow feet. Do you know many seven year old girls who have been told by a Pediatrician that she has bunions? Probably not. They aren't painful,just a little jacked up looking. Natalia's toenails are as crazy as her feet. Example: Her second toe nail curves over and scoops down back into the skin. I can regale you with how much fun it is to try and get the clippers under that bad boy just so I can trim a little off the top. It's a massive freak out for her. She hates to be messed with or picked at anyway, this just takes the cake.
The drama really started with me. What mother in her right mind would attempt this freaky feat (no pun intended) with a seven year old who hasn't eaten since 3pm and got home from the circus with her BFF at almost 11pm? Why I picked this moment is beyond me, but I was a mom on a mission. It turned out to be mission impossible.
First, there was the negotiating, then the distraction attempt, then the tears, more negotiating, more tears, then a screaming match between she and I in the middle of the kitchen. It's a good thing I decided earlier to open all the windows to let the house air out. I'm surprised the police didn't come by to see what all the screaming was about. Even the dog stayed in the other room. He's not as dumb as I thought.
While we are on the subject of who gave which genetic trait, I can tell you that Natalia has my temper. That's why when we both get fired up at the same time it gets stupid. It's not so bad if Jeremy is here to referee, but tonight he was already at work. I know people at work know me as a relatively even and calm person, especially under pressure, but I have a temper and it's ugly. I feel the need to add that having a temper and being abusive are two different things. I may have a temper, but I'm not a tool. I think the catalyst is that she and I are just so much alike in personality that when we clash, it is note worthy. We are both stubborn, always right, emotional, independent and just the right touch of drama to cause a downward spiral.
Finally I got a grip when I watched her crawling like a wild animal from one level of the kitchen counter to the other trying to get away from me so she could attempt to cut her own toe nails. I was afraid she would fall and get hurt because she was so out of control. That would be a great story for the ER. "She fell off the counter while she was throwing a tantrum because she wouldn't let me cut her toe nails". Right lady. When I caught her up in my arms, I set her down and gave her a good spanking on her juicy little cheek. I only use spankings as reset buttons for her. It's a startle to get her out of her immediate freak out and we rarely have to resort to this. I immediately wrapped my arms around her and just held her while we stood in the middle of the kitchen. She was still screaming at me at this point, but at least she was being still. I told her we both needed some "two time" and I scooped her up and brought her to the mommy chair.
She feels so bad and not just because her punishment is sleeping in her own bed tonight and no playdate on Monday. She feels terrible because she thinks I take what she says to heart. When she gets ampped up like this she will worry and fret all night long. Hate me for whatever, but I gave her a small dose of Benadryl to calm her down and help her get some rest. I spent the rest of the evening wiping her tears away and reassuring her that nothing she says hurts my feelings. I understand she doesn't mean any of what is spewing out of her mouth and besides, I'm the Mommy. She could slaughter a compound of baby seals for the sake of watching them die and I would still love her. I would also put her directly into therapy.
Tonight I am a bad mommy because I didn't listen to my inner mommy. The one who tells you your child is too close to the edge right before she falls, the one who looks at your daughter's date and screams "DON'T YOU LET HER GO WITH THAT", the one who said to me "she's tired, wound up, and just ate sugar. Are ya really gonna go there now? Good luck with that". Inner mommy was right.
Toe nails. It all started with Toe nails and they are still uncut.
Friday, June 24, 2011
All that Glitters
Being with Natalia totally adds the glitter to my existence. Now don't get me wrong - Jeremy adds the love, spice and everything nice; but Natalia adds the glitter for sure. I get so excited when I talk to new moms with daughters. I always tell them three key things: Get the book "Girlfriend's Guide to the First Year" by Vicki Iovine, having a child gets so much more fun the older they get, parenting gets so much more tough the older they get. God loves balance, yin and yang, whatever you want to call it. Ya get the good stuff, but ya gotta be on your toes to ward off the potential bad stuff. The stakes get higher when it comes to problems as they get older. Ask any mother of a teenage daughter. I'll think about that tomorrow.
Back to the glitter part. Natalia says she loves to go to the mall, but what she really means is she loves to go to Sephora. She likes Sephora for the same reason she likes Costco on a Saturday. Samples. I have taught her the hygiene basics of makeup sample-ness, then I let her play. Guess who is her favorite makeover client? Yep. Me. And I totally let her "work her magic". Jeremy hangs out in the game shop across the way and we meet in the middle when she and I are finally done. This time when I came out Jeremy looked at me, there was a pregnant pause, then he asked "Did she do that?" She's seven and her makeup skills are just beginning to manifest, so I ended up looking like a bipolar hooker.
Now I don't mind walking around with the fruits of Natalia's makeovers as long as she's with me as my obvious explanation. Trolling around the mall by myself to run into the Hallmark wearing my latest Natalia makeover is kind of a different story. Without my mini-me explanation at my side, I just looked like a crazy person with orange lipstick smeared every which way, one turquoise eyelid, one glittery purple eyelid, and enough blush to think I am a woman up to no good. Maybe I could have pulled that look off at Hot Topic, but not so at the Hallmark store. In her defense, Natalia was very proud of her handiwork and said I look beautiful.
Today Natalia and I got our hair tinseled. This is literally two teenage girls in the mall tying strands of tinsel to our roots. Natalia picked rainbow and I picked gold because I thought it would be quasi-subtle. I just couldn't resist! I want fancy glittery hair too and like I mentioned before, Natalia is my favorite excuse. "Oh yeah, I just did it because Natalia thought it would be special if we both had our hair done." Bull. I did it because I want sparkles in my hair too. I didn't even ask Jeremy if he noticed or liked it. It wouldn't matter - I love it.
The older I get the more I am adamant that I don't have to fit into any "mother mold". I'm not a soccer mom, a OC housewife, a Prozac mom or a helicopter parent. I am Queen Shauna, keeper of Princess Natalia. I will wear lipstick and glitter until I am too demented to remember where I put it in the first place. I'm sure Natalia will hook me up just fine. I want sequined shoes, glitter hair and perfume that smells like sugar cookies and chili peppers. I want to stay young and beautiful forever, do cartwheels and roller skate until I break a hip. I can tell you that I would have aged so much more quickly without Natalia. She gives me the excuse and inspiration to do all of these things, even if I sometimes end up looking like an emotionally unstable woman of ill repute.
Back to the glitter part. Natalia says she loves to go to the mall, but what she really means is she loves to go to Sephora. She likes Sephora for the same reason she likes Costco on a Saturday. Samples. I have taught her the hygiene basics of makeup sample-ness, then I let her play. Guess who is her favorite makeover client? Yep. Me. And I totally let her "work her magic". Jeremy hangs out in the game shop across the way and we meet in the middle when she and I are finally done. This time when I came out Jeremy looked at me, there was a pregnant pause, then he asked "Did she do that?" She's seven and her makeup skills are just beginning to manifest, so I ended up looking like a bipolar hooker.
Now I don't mind walking around with the fruits of Natalia's makeovers as long as she's with me as my obvious explanation. Trolling around the mall by myself to run into the Hallmark wearing my latest Natalia makeover is kind of a different story. Without my mini-me explanation at my side, I just looked like a crazy person with orange lipstick smeared every which way, one turquoise eyelid, one glittery purple eyelid, and enough blush to think I am a woman up to no good. Maybe I could have pulled that look off at Hot Topic, but not so at the Hallmark store. In her defense, Natalia was very proud of her handiwork and said I look beautiful.
Today Natalia and I got our hair tinseled. This is literally two teenage girls in the mall tying strands of tinsel to our roots. Natalia picked rainbow and I picked gold because I thought it would be quasi-subtle. I just couldn't resist! I want fancy glittery hair too and like I mentioned before, Natalia is my favorite excuse. "Oh yeah, I just did it because Natalia thought it would be special if we both had our hair done." Bull. I did it because I want sparkles in my hair too. I didn't even ask Jeremy if he noticed or liked it. It wouldn't matter - I love it.
The older I get the more I am adamant that I don't have to fit into any "mother mold". I'm not a soccer mom, a OC housewife, a Prozac mom or a helicopter parent. I am Queen Shauna, keeper of Princess Natalia. I will wear lipstick and glitter until I am too demented to remember where I put it in the first place. I'm sure Natalia will hook me up just fine. I want sequined shoes, glitter hair and perfume that smells like sugar cookies and chili peppers. I want to stay young and beautiful forever, do cartwheels and roller skate until I break a hip. I can tell you that I would have aged so much more quickly without Natalia. She gives me the excuse and inspiration to do all of these things, even if I sometimes end up looking like an emotionally unstable woman of ill repute.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Mothers, Brides and Diarrhea
As most of you know, I just got back from my two part adventure to Atlanta. The catalyst for me going was to support my girl for her wedding. Armed with a new hot pink dress and some fabulous new shoes, I made my way to the east coast. No one told me that this whole experience would be all about mothers. Let me explain:
First of all there was the obvious stress of me seeing my own mother for the first time in four years. I have been trying to get over my dreams of what I wanted my mom to be like and to just embrace her for what she is able to give. This didn't happen until the end of my trip, but I did manage to find some peace. See, nothing had changed. Even though she hadn't seen me in four years and I had stopped communication with her for around eight months, she still was wrapped up in the drama of my other sister. It was actually a mental sigh of relief to me that I had made the right decision last October. My favorite part of the trip was spending time with my Grandma. She and I stayed up to 1:30 in the morning every night I was there talking about life, motherhood, God and food. It doesn't get much better than that. She hugged me and we cried together while she told me that she would show me the love that my mom just isn't able to show. I told her that I had felt so lost these past months, but now I feel totally anchored. Amazing.
The next part of my story involves a very particular bride, a totally obtuse mother, and a kick ass group of bridesmaids. You see, Julie is a worse "type A" personality than I am. If you talk to my husband, he will tell you that there is no way. Oh yes. Way. I've never seen someone return a pancake for being "too crunchy" or a fried egg for being "too greasy". You gotta know Julie to appreciate this.
That being said, Julie is going through the same journey that I went through with my mom, except Julie's mom is a recovering alcoholic. It breaks my heart to see Julie continue to bless her mom with the hope of a child, only to have her heart broken with disappointment. When most girls dream of their wedding day, the mother is part of that dream. You imagine the loving tears in her eyes when she sees you in that perfect wedding dress (Julie's dress was a total dream), she talks you off the ledge when you start getting a bit bridezilla (all us married girls have been there), and she is your "go to" girl for hugs, support, and all those details that you won't really give a fig about in five years anyway. The mother of the bride is supposed to smile, indulge, and quietly share in your happiest day. Julie's mom did none of this. In fact, the only thing I saw her do was push Julie so far to the edge that the poor girl was thrown into a fit of nausea an hour before her wedding. This of course was cured by me in the only fashion I knew how: A nurse story about someone being sprayed by poop when a patient sneezed. I'm not kidding. Not only did it cure her nausea and make her laugh, all those sweet bridesmaids I just met probably think I'm one of the grossest Barbie looking person they have ever met. Nurse Barbie is usually in a skirt and holding a baby, not in a hazmat outfit covered in poop.
I could tell by Julie's venting and the countless other stories she had regaled to us that she had been awakened from her "perfect mother" dream because of her wedding. I totally know where she is coming from and like I said, it really breaks my heart. Her wedding was the most memorable wedding that I have attended by far, but when it was over and we were packing up the wedding carnage, I hugged her and let her know "this is what family is about".
Family are the people who tell you poop stories to make you laugh, make you eat when you are stressed, gladly spend a small fortune to take part in your beautiful day, offer a getaway car (long story) if you need it, support all of your decisions, erase pictures of you that are unflattering, steal your cell phone so you won't take another call from your mother, and finally who all sing at your wedding when the power goes out so you and your husband can have that special dance together. That is what family is all about.
This trip made me think a lot about the kind of mother I am, and I decided that I am doing a pretty damn good job. Someday that will be Natalia sitting in the bride room, freaking out and about to get dressed into her confection of a bridal gown. I will keep my poop story ready if she needs it because it really is a funny story, I will hire someone to run around like a crazy person so I can be there with her and take it all in, I will offer her a getaway car if she needs it, I will quietly stand in the background and thank God for such a beautiful little girl. Most of all, I will never give anyone the need to tell Natalia that they will stand in my stead to love and cherish her because I am incapable. There isn't a pack of wild bridezillas that could keep me away.
First of all there was the obvious stress of me seeing my own mother for the first time in four years. I have been trying to get over my dreams of what I wanted my mom to be like and to just embrace her for what she is able to give. This didn't happen until the end of my trip, but I did manage to find some peace. See, nothing had changed. Even though she hadn't seen me in four years and I had stopped communication with her for around eight months, she still was wrapped up in the drama of my other sister. It was actually a mental sigh of relief to me that I had made the right decision last October. My favorite part of the trip was spending time with my Grandma. She and I stayed up to 1:30 in the morning every night I was there talking about life, motherhood, God and food. It doesn't get much better than that. She hugged me and we cried together while she told me that she would show me the love that my mom just isn't able to show. I told her that I had felt so lost these past months, but now I feel totally anchored. Amazing.
The next part of my story involves a very particular bride, a totally obtuse mother, and a kick ass group of bridesmaids. You see, Julie is a worse "type A" personality than I am. If you talk to my husband, he will tell you that there is no way. Oh yes. Way. I've never seen someone return a pancake for being "too crunchy" or a fried egg for being "too greasy". You gotta know Julie to appreciate this.
That being said, Julie is going through the same journey that I went through with my mom, except Julie's mom is a recovering alcoholic. It breaks my heart to see Julie continue to bless her mom with the hope of a child, only to have her heart broken with disappointment. When most girls dream of their wedding day, the mother is part of that dream. You imagine the loving tears in her eyes when she sees you in that perfect wedding dress (Julie's dress was a total dream), she talks you off the ledge when you start getting a bit bridezilla (all us married girls have been there), and she is your "go to" girl for hugs, support, and all those details that you won't really give a fig about in five years anyway. The mother of the bride is supposed to smile, indulge, and quietly share in your happiest day. Julie's mom did none of this. In fact, the only thing I saw her do was push Julie so far to the edge that the poor girl was thrown into a fit of nausea an hour before her wedding. This of course was cured by me in the only fashion I knew how: A nurse story about someone being sprayed by poop when a patient sneezed. I'm not kidding. Not only did it cure her nausea and make her laugh, all those sweet bridesmaids I just met probably think I'm one of the grossest Barbie looking person they have ever met. Nurse Barbie is usually in a skirt and holding a baby, not in a hazmat outfit covered in poop.
I could tell by Julie's venting and the countless other stories she had regaled to us that she had been awakened from her "perfect mother" dream because of her wedding. I totally know where she is coming from and like I said, it really breaks my heart. Her wedding was the most memorable wedding that I have attended by far, but when it was over and we were packing up the wedding carnage, I hugged her and let her know "this is what family is about".
Family are the people who tell you poop stories to make you laugh, make you eat when you are stressed, gladly spend a small fortune to take part in your beautiful day, offer a getaway car (long story) if you need it, support all of your decisions, erase pictures of you that are unflattering, steal your cell phone so you won't take another call from your mother, and finally who all sing at your wedding when the power goes out so you and your husband can have that special dance together. That is what family is all about.
This trip made me think a lot about the kind of mother I am, and I decided that I am doing a pretty damn good job. Someday that will be Natalia sitting in the bride room, freaking out and about to get dressed into her confection of a bridal gown. I will keep my poop story ready if she needs it because it really is a funny story, I will hire someone to run around like a crazy person so I can be there with her and take it all in, I will offer her a getaway car if she needs it, I will quietly stand in the background and thank God for such a beautiful little girl. Most of all, I will never give anyone the need to tell Natalia that they will stand in my stead to love and cherish her because I am incapable. There isn't a pack of wild bridezillas that could keep me away.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Moms are Zombies with Better Skin
I would make a horribly frustrated schizophrenic. I just wouldn't be able to handle all the chatter. Ask any mother and she will tell you that being a parent is mentally exhausting starting at about age 18 months. Ask any mother who's child started talking earlier than age one and she will say "What? I'm sorry I wasn't listening." See, I had all these ideas rumbling around my head about a witty or heartfelt blog for this week, but POOF. It was gone the moment Natalia got her snack on. This was all the fortitude she needed for an evening of button pushing, question asking, tear jerking, apologizing, mother hating, mother loving, more question asking, screaming, bipolar kind of evening. It's amazing all she can get accomplished in four hours. I know that schizophrenics hear voices that sound like they are coming from outside of themselves, but do the voices demand their full attention and answers to countless questions? I thought this "why" phase was supposed to be an endearing quality of the terrible twos. We'll just call them the schizophrenic sevens. The title itself sounds like it could be a horror movie. I would play the zombie mom.
Just so you'll have a reference point, here is a sample of the types of conversations (if you would even call it that) that have me fried and longing for 9:30 when I KNOW she will be asleep:
Jeremy: What's the name of the new (cruise) ship?
Me: The Dream.
Natalia: What? What did you say?
Me: I'm sorry babe, I just can't answer another question for at least 5 minutes.
Natalia: Why?
Me: I don't know why. Please just ask daddy.
Natalia: Daddy! What was mommy talking about?
Jeremy: What do you mean?
Natalia: WHAT WAS MOMMY TALKING ABOUT?!
Jeremy: I asked her what the name of the new ship was.
Natalia: What is it?
Jeremy: The Dream.
Natalia: Oh, I thought she said "green", and I didn't know what you guys were talking about. Why did you want to know the name of the new ship?
Jeremy: Because I couldn't remember what it was called.
Natalia: Mommy? Can I have a dessert?
Me: I'm still not answering any more questions. It hasn't been five minutes yet.
Natalia: Why?
You get the picture.
Heaven forbid Jeremy and I try and have a conversation. Not only does Natalia need to add her two cents and tell us whether or not we are mistaken about whatever, if she is listening with only half an ear she asks so many questions that we end up repeating the whole conversation for her and forgetting the point. Yes, we are indulgent parents and include her in our conversations instead of telling her "This is an adult conversation and children are to be seen and not heard" like my parents told me. I learned to listen more carefully if I wanted to know what was going on. I can feel my eyes glazing over by the end of the night because I just can't answer another question. I swear if I was a newborn I would be fast asleep and in a fit of hiccups from total over stimulation. Zzzzzzzzz *hiccup*.
If I had to attest to Natalia's greatest strength (aka superpower) it would be talking. She is very articulate and curious. She is also intuitive and will ask deeper questions than you anticipate (or are ready for) even when you try and keep the conversation cryptic and child appropriate. I wouldn't put money on it, but I'm pretty sure she started talking in understandable English around nine months old. She hasn't stopped since. She was communicating well before she could walk, so that sounds about right. I remember her being in a stroller and still drinking formula when a stranger said "Wow! I can actually understand her." We've never talked "baby" to her, therefore she talks very adult (or her version thereof) back to us, or at us depending on her mood. Oh help me baby Jesus with those moods. Another blog, another time.
When I'm not totally fried from an emotional and exhausted little boogerface I will concede that I love our conversations and how I can talk up to her. She is able to tell me about her first grade gossip, emotional state of the union, dreams, plans for tomorrow, how much she loves me and how happy she is to be a part of the family. I'll read over this in another week and I'll giggle when I think about how my mind became numb because I couldn't take any more of her questions. It will be endearing. I'm her go to girl for answers to the world. She and I will both get some much needed rest tonight and I'll charge up with some Dunkin' Donuts coffee for another day of questions and conversations, but mostly more questions.
Just so you'll have a reference point, here is a sample of the types of conversations (if you would even call it that) that have me fried and longing for 9:30 when I KNOW she will be asleep:
Jeremy: What's the name of the new (cruise) ship?
Me: The Dream.
Natalia: What? What did you say?
Me: I'm sorry babe, I just can't answer another question for at least 5 minutes.
Natalia: Why?
Me: I don't know why. Please just ask daddy.
Natalia: Daddy! What was mommy talking about?
Jeremy: What do you mean?
Natalia: WHAT WAS MOMMY TALKING ABOUT?!
Jeremy: I asked her what the name of the new ship was.
Natalia: What is it?
Jeremy: The Dream.
Natalia: Oh, I thought she said "green", and I didn't know what you guys were talking about. Why did you want to know the name of the new ship?
Jeremy: Because I couldn't remember what it was called.
Natalia: Mommy? Can I have a dessert?
Me: I'm still not answering any more questions. It hasn't been five minutes yet.
Natalia: Why?
You get the picture.
Heaven forbid Jeremy and I try and have a conversation. Not only does Natalia need to add her two cents and tell us whether or not we are mistaken about whatever, if she is listening with only half an ear she asks so many questions that we end up repeating the whole conversation for her and forgetting the point. Yes, we are indulgent parents and include her in our conversations instead of telling her "This is an adult conversation and children are to be seen and not heard" like my parents told me. I learned to listen more carefully if I wanted to know what was going on. I can feel my eyes glazing over by the end of the night because I just can't answer another question. I swear if I was a newborn I would be fast asleep and in a fit of hiccups from total over stimulation. Zzzzzzzzz *hiccup*.
If I had to attest to Natalia's greatest strength (aka superpower) it would be talking. She is very articulate and curious. She is also intuitive and will ask deeper questions than you anticipate (or are ready for) even when you try and keep the conversation cryptic and child appropriate. I wouldn't put money on it, but I'm pretty sure she started talking in understandable English around nine months old. She hasn't stopped since. She was communicating well before she could walk, so that sounds about right. I remember her being in a stroller and still drinking formula when a stranger said "Wow! I can actually understand her." We've never talked "baby" to her, therefore she talks very adult (or her version thereof) back to us, or at us depending on her mood. Oh help me baby Jesus with those moods. Another blog, another time.
When I'm not totally fried from an emotional and exhausted little boogerface I will concede that I love our conversations and how I can talk up to her. She is able to tell me about her first grade gossip, emotional state of the union, dreams, plans for tomorrow, how much she loves me and how happy she is to be a part of the family. I'll read over this in another week and I'll giggle when I think about how my mind became numb because I couldn't take any more of her questions. It will be endearing. I'm her go to girl for answers to the world. She and I will both get some much needed rest tonight and I'll charge up with some Dunkin' Donuts coffee for another day of questions and conversations, but mostly more questions.
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