Tag Archives: Children

Fair

Fair.

It seemed to be the theme for the day.

It started with a patient I was working with that has been battling Parkinson’s. After he informed me that he was going to be disabled for the rest of his life, I just responded with “I know, it’s not fair”. He shrugged and said “it’s life”. Seeing where the conversation could go, I said “well, the phrase isn’t ‘life is fair'”. We left it at that and continued on with therapy.

Skip ahead a few hours and I for some reason thought my whole family would enjoy a Friday night at the town carnival. Now, to be clear, by the whole family I mean “the kids”. I’ve been here way too many times to enjoy the scene as an adult, but to be fair, for a kid it’s pretty fun. 

It’s fun, but it’s loud, it’s crowded, and there are a lot of lights and things to look at. Hell, I get overstimulated. But for a 7 year old autistic child heading home 30 minutes after bedtime, it was way overstimulating. This was as lose lose situation for us. I knew the carnival would bring tears but I also knew that not going would bring tears. What brought the tears on started was the fact that her brother choose to get a fancy you gun that made lots of noise and lit up while she chose to get cotton candy, which he was unable to eat. Charlie would not shared his fun new gun and I told Molly she couldn’t play with it until she wanted her hands. We were 3 minutes from our house. In that 3 minutes we got to how it wasn’t fair that her brother’s peanut allergy was ruining her life because she couldn’t play with his fun because she ate cotton candy. (If your confused, welcome. Pour some wine and join my team). Then came the doozy…. It’s not fair that her friends get to have fun and we never do anything fun. Remember, on our way home from the carnival, ate cotton candy.

Needless to say, the night went downhill quickly. When things calmed and I held my Chardonnay, paying bills at 9:00 PM, all I could think was “shit, none of this is fair”.  It’s not fair that she can’t have a good time, having a good time. It’s not fair that he has to miss out on delicious food and events. It’s not fair that he gets blamed for ruining things because he could die and wants to be included. It’s not fair that we are raising 2 difficult children. It’s not fair that he will go under anesthesia for the third time in 5 years. It’s not fair that no matter what we do, big compromises have to be made to keep peace or someone alive. It’s not fair that I feel like several 10 minute crying fits a day is “getting better”. Life isn’t fair. 

The art of solo parenting

Last week I got the flu. Seriously, full on fever, aches, cough, chills and everything else that comes with the flu. It was awful. Thankfully, it hit the hardest over the weekend which meant, I could actually be sick. Yup, you heard that right, this mom was able to curl up in bed and not be seen unless someone was bringing me medicine.

How you ask?

The answer is easy, living it is hard… solo parenting.

I never like to refer to my husband and I as “single parents” because we aren’t. We have each other, we are partners, we can do things alone and not necessarily have to find a babysitter. The problem is we are more like team mates for a tag team wrestling match than actual partners. We are only together on the weekends and one week day night for dinner.

That’s it.

The rest of the time it is one parent and two kids. One parent getting everyone dressed and out the door, one parent shuttling everyone to soccer practice, one parent attempting homework and dinner before bedtime. One parent. All the time. It’s exhausting because usually that one parent has also put in a full day’s work. (yes, I realize that many people do this, some don’t even have the help of a spouse…. I’m in awe of these people) The great thing about it is that we both have to do each task. Some days I get the kids to school, some days Stampy does. Some days, I am wondering why my kids just won’t go to bed, some days Stampy seems to have the kids in bed and the dishes washed before I get home from work. (I’m also in awe of him on these days.)

Some days it’s rough. No two days are the same, it’s a constant switch which makes it hard to get into a routine. It’s hard to schedule therapy that everyone can attend when you work opposite shifts. It’s hard to schedule your own appointments with two kids in tow. It’s hard to work as a united front when you are always running solo. It can also lead to more solo parenting on the weekends as everyone runs around like crazy people trying to get things accomplished that is just nearly impossible without an extra set of hands. There are the times you just want your family together as a whole.

Our schedule, although it is not ideal, has given each of us a freedom. A freedom to meet friends out for dinner, a freedom to go away for the weekend, a freedom to go to the gym, a freedom to get sick for the fact that we each are perfectly capable of taking care of our kids in all types of situations. There are no notes left to instruct how to make dinner or where pajamas are. I know that everyone will be bathed and no one will be at 9 PM. I won’t be called over a trivial issue while I’m trying to eat my first peaceful meal in two months. I know that I can utter the words “I think I have the flu, I’m going to bed” and not give a second thought to what is happening in the rest of my house.

And that is a wonderful thing.

3 weeks, the non-yelling continues

Sort of. Well, I’ve yelled 3 times. But only twice at the kids, once was really to no one in general. Maybe it was towards Stampy, but it was more I’m-having-a-nervous-breakdown-and-no-one-is-listening-to-me yell/cry. 

Either way, the bigger part is that I’m learning ways to control my mood when things really start to irk me and I feel like I’m losing control. These past 3 weeks have also taught me what really pushes my buttons and makes me want to start yelling at the kids. I now know what I need to learn to control. 

I need to control my urge to be on time. Nothing gets me riled up faster than being late. I hate being late. I hate when people are late in general. It’s probably one of my biggest pet peeves. Want to put me in a bad mood, show up late. Of course a 3 and a 5 year old have no sense of time. At all. None. Since I’ve stopped yelling, we are now consistently one of the last people showing up for school which means my blood pressure is consistently up before 9 AM. It’s a good thing we live a half mile away or we’d be much later since I’ve been buckling my kids in to their car seats when we should be there. Today we were actually early, but Molly sat in time out twice before we got there. 

I need to watch Full House reruns more. That Danny Tanner rarely loses his temper, he has a lot of patience and good advice. I didn’t realize that back in the early 90s. I also didn’t realize how bad the fashions were. Nick at Nite is really good at reminding us what not to wear.

I need to exercise more. I really try to make it a priority but with work and 2 kids, it sometimes takes a back burner. However, I am much more relaxed and calm after a 3 mile run. I’m also too tired to fight. Yoga just makes me realize that things aren’t so bad. At least the kids aren’t asking me to bind while squatting.

The tickle monster needs to visit more. Really, you want to choose 5 minutes before walking to the car to argue about getting a cowgirl hat? That’s fine, I can’t hear you over the tickle monster. You don’t want to brush your teeth?? That’s ok, the tickle monster will do it. He doesn’t mind your silent crying and thrashing.

With a little over 3 weeks to go, I think I’m going to make it! Probably not without yelling again, but at this point at least the kids now know that when I yell, I mean business. Plus, I’m Italian. We yell sometimes. It happens.

Bedtime or Bust

I’m sure every family has a time of day that just seems to cause stress. Maybe it’s the breakfast and out the door to school/work rush, maybe it’s the afternoon when a toddler has stopped napping but still needs one, or maybe you are like our family and it’s the time between dinner and bedtime.

From 6-7 pm every night I’m pretty sure someone has taken my children and replaced them with caged monkeys that look like my children. They are wound up, their listening ears have long since shut off and I seriously find myself wondering how I haven’t downed an entire bottle of pinot in this hour. 

I get it. Other than school in the mornings, the kids don’t really leave our house. So from 12-7 they have the same toys either inside or outside to play with and see the same faces. I get a little stir crazy too and I have stuff I should be doing. It’s also the time where we don’t really have enough time to get involved with anything (especially anything that makes a mess) but they are bored and dying for stimulation. Only, I’m at my witching hour too. I’ve been at work all day and have come home to make dinner and am brain dead or I’ve already been entertaining them all day long and am fresh out of ideas. And fresh out of patience. 

I try to keep it to a simplified routine, but Charlie somehow thinks that alligator wrestling pajamas on him is part of his routine and Molly thinks draining our entire city of water by playing in the sink for 10 minutes is part of her routine. Just once I would love to brush everyone’s teeth without someone biting down on the toothbrush or sealing their lips like they’ve been super glued. And I’m not sure exactly but I’m pretty sure that there is a game of “hide the lovey” that the kids have created in order to extend bedtime by another 10 minutes as we search high and low for someone’s favorite stuffed animal. I think Charlie’s beige puppy dog shoved into my Ugg boot wins the prize of the longest search. Tonight like a crazed maniac I forced the kids on a death march to search for said puppy dog then realized that a 4 and 2 year old are probably the worst searchers ever. I don’t know what I was thinking, these kids can’t find me hiding under the dining room table while we play hide and seek, how are the going to find a stuffed dog the size of my hand? (and why can’t their favorite stuffed animal be those ginormous ones you win at carnivals???)

We finally make it to the bedrooms only to not be able to agree on 1 story to read, so we read 2. Or 3. Or I put my foot down at 4. Technically I could do it earlier but I hope if I give them lots of attention before leaving they will be less inclined to exit their rooms looking for more. I’m usually wrong. With Molly, she was content with us kissing her goodnight and leaving, we had that part in the bag. We were home free once that door shut. Then Charlie decided that he wanted to sleep in a double bed and needs us to lay down with him, lest he cry like we have broken his heart. So we lay with him for a couple minutes. BIG MISTAKE. That leads to Molly wanting to cuddle and why not? We cuddle with Charlie, it’s only fair. Bust, we let that good thing fly out the window and added an extra 10 minutes to bedtime. When we finally do get to evacuate, we are only at a 50/50 chance that Molly won’t wander from her room and whine for me at the top of the steps to tell me that one last pressing item before going to bed.

An hour later, everyone is maybe asleep and I flop on the couch only to realize that it’s only 7:30 and the night is still young for this mama in need of doing dishes and cleaning up and all that other fun household work that doesn’t get done while I’m at work. But what I really want is some cake and a glass of wine so I compromise and drink while I fold laundry then eat cake. Which reminds me, I’m out of cake.

So, what is your stressful time of day? Are you a morning, afternoon, or like us, a bedtime monkey show?

Mommy Confessions

In Charlie’s eyes, I failed him today. So I thought I would share my MommyFAIL along with a confession that goes along with it. Charlie is 2 years, 4 months old and he still drinks from the bottle. GASP!! I know. There are a lot reasons why he still does but the biggest is it just was never a big deal to make him stop. He drinks water, juice, lemonade etc from a cup and even drinks out of a regular cup now but he wants his milk in his “baby bottle”. To the point he gets mad, I mean really mad if we give it to him in a sippy cup. Thanks to Avent, we had a transition spout that could go on his bottle. I thought “perfect!”, Charlie thought “what the *&%^ is this??!!?”. There it is, my FAIL for the day, I gave my 2 year 4 month old son this:
Image

/hangs head in shame.