Of course, by lazy, I mean “I’m off scrubbing floors/dishes/toilets and folding laundry/making meals/enforcing nap times/entertaining small children and pulling out my hair.”

***

Found out today that the school has delayed the start because of mold. Lovely. That means that instead of the relief my wallet desperately needed, we will be paying for daycare for two children, instead of one, for an indeterminate amount of time. Plus, when she does go back? I’ll be worrying about mold. (and I know they’re doing everything they can to make sure it’s safe before the kids start. Still. Worry.)

***

I go back to work tomorrow. My back still hurts. I’m worried about lifting/moving the residents around.

***

I started writing, fictionally, again. Zombies keep cropping up. I’ve decided to go with it. This thrills my husband to no end.

***

I am thinking I’m going to have to go back to, gah, scheduling things now that the semester has started for both TheMan and I. And with Truck starting pre-school, and MissQ (eventually) starting 5K….crazy busy.

That’s what’s up at the moment,

See you soon….

Jen ThePsychobabble

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The other day, I brought the kids home from an afternoon at their grandma’s house. When they are at Grandma’s, they tend to snack non-stop.  So we don’t usually have supper those nights. Because they won’t eat it anyway.

Well, yesterday, we didn’t have supper. And it get’s to be bedtime, so Truck makes his usual “I’m hungry, and thirsty!” claim. Which appeared to be solved by a glass of juice…..

Everyone is tucked in, and falls asleep quickly. A little while later, I hear this tiny voice crying. So I go upstairs to find Truck rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He had woken up from a nightmare.

So I ask him what’s wrong? He looks at me with these big eyes and sobs, “Ebbybody ate my food!”

“Everybody ate your food?”

“Yeah, my hawtdawgs all gone. Ebbybody ate my food!”

“Everybody ate your hotdogs?”

“Yeah!”

“Are you okay now?”

“Yeah.”

And goodnights were said. Again. And kisses and hugs all around. Again.

And off to sleep he goes. A little while later, I hear him fussing again. So I run upstairs, to check on the boy child. I walk in, and he sits up, and he mournfully says, “Lizzy stoled my sammich!”

“Lizzy stole your sandwich??”

At this point, mommy caught on. So downstairs we went, for some string cheese and milk, and snuggles with daddy. This seemed to put an end to the nightmares.

The boy slept the rest of the night.

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My son crossed his arms and glares at me. “I gonna run away!” the two-and-a-half year old declares.

Inside my head, I think, “Me too, kiddo, me too.” But, realizing that saying that aloud would not win mother of the year award, I simply say, “Oh?”

“I gonna run away, and sissy, too!” he says, his little foot stomping.

“You and Miss Q. are going to run away together?” I say crouching down by him.

“Yeah!”

“I will miss you.”

He looks unsure now, and fidgets on his feet.

“Momma come too?” His arms drop to his side. “Please?”

I open my arms, and he falls into them. And together we decide to stay.

Right. Here.

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Yeah. I really can’t intro this better than the title already does, now can I?

#1 I got a job. I’m working in a nursing home as a CNA. It’s actually going really well. I like working with the clients, and my co-workers have been awesome.

#2 The kids started daycare, and are adjusting to that. The hardest part for everyone is the super early start to the day.

#3 I apparently never learn. I think I will be taking classes over the summer. I guess I like being insanely busy, on some level.

#4 I’m doing really good in the classes I didn’t fail out of. Which is awesome…sort of…

#5 By the end of the day, I feel a little brain-fried. Hence tonight’s brief randomness.

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Right on the heels of reading @PrincessJenn’s response to this post on the Blogher site, and reading Maria Melee’s post on Aiming Low, I took my children out into public.

It’s something I do occasionally, and it doesn’t always go well. This was one of those times.

We were at the library, because my 4 year old daughter had worked very hard at being good all week. And she asked for a trip to the library for new books. While we there, her 2 year old brother decided to have a fit of massive proportions. So we quickly headed to check out, and leave.

As we pulled away, my daughter started crying. When she finally calmed down enough to tell me what was wrong, she told me, “Mommy, I can NEVER go back to the library! He was so sassy, and I just feel very bare-assed!”

Sidenote: I did explain, with stifled giggles, that she meant EMBARRASSED in order to avoid public outburts of “bare-assed” in the future!

But what an apt description of how I was feeling in the midst of that melt-down. Like I’d been caught with my pants down, bare ass hanging in the breeze. And we’re lucky enough to have a librarian who is very kid-friendly, and doesn’t flinch at a little noise.

I know many parents have been there. Many parents have felt that “bare-assed” feeling. There was a time span of about 6 months where I refused to go grocery shopping, alone, with the two of them. Because it constantly left me feeling bare-assed.

That time span I affectionately referred to as “Grocery Store Hell”? It gave me a slightly different perspective. While I knew, logically, that you can’t always control your kids’ behavior, prior to GSH, I thought that things like redirection with snacks and toys, time outs, and rewards for good behavior could resolve most fits.

Yeah. Apparently, not so much. It was a very humbling experience, to be forced to walk a mile in the shoes of those parents I had, occasionally, found myself shaking my head at. Not in anger, but definitely in a superior way.  Now? I wouldn’t dream of feeling superior, partly because I don’t want Karma to bite me in quite that way. Ever. Again. And partly because I realize now, that 99.99% of the time, that parent already feels embarrassed and guilty, and generally like crap.

Instead of piling onto that feeling of craptasticness, I’ve decided that sympathy is a better way to go. An understanding smile, a kind word, just a look that says, “Yeah. I know. It happens.” How far will that go towards lifting a frazzled spirit? Towards reassuring a tired parent that they aren’t alone?

Having been there, I’m telling you, it goes a long way. Give it a try sometime.

Until then,

Jen ThePsychobabble.

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I’m at the inlaws for the holiday. Not my favorite way to spend the day, to be honest.
Not that it’s all that horrible, just kind of awkward.
And I really hate chasing crabby, sugared-up kids out of stuff they aren’t supposed to be in. Plus, I keep thinking of all the things I could/should be doing instead of being here…
But enough whining, how is your holiday going?

PS isn’t the niece just a cutie??

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Not only are you getting completely random thoughts here, but they’re in a LIST. With NUMBERING. Brace yourselves.

1)My sort-of-(it’s-a-long-story-don’t-ask-)brother-in-law is going to be staying with us for awhile. But he does dishes, so I’m cool with that.

2)Being outside in the sunshine makes it REALLY hard to read the laptop screen. This could be interpreted as a sign to either put the laptop away OR to hide indoors more often.

3)My daughter daughter, who is four, is now routinely using words like “toxic” and “putrid”. As in, “That is dinner? I am not eating that, it is TOXIC!” (was not) and “Mom. I can’t eat bratwurst. This saur kraut is PUTRID!”(okay, I bought the wrong brand. That one was my fault.)

4)It’s bill paying time, and I’m short on cash. Think I could pay with pie instead? I’m pretty good at pie. I’m even better at brownies. Anyone want to buy one of my special brownies??~wink wink nudge nudge~

5)On the same day that my daughter got kicked in the face, my son smacked his head riding the 4-wheeler with daddy. He put a good sized dent in his forehead. Later that day, the cat tried to kill me. He tripped me on the stairs with my arms full of crap. My face and shoulder are all black and blue. TheMan joked that he is NOT going out in public with us until we heal, and no longer look like someone beat us.

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Because I’m tired of writing depressing things, I decided to participate in Dear Kid Saturday.

Dear Miss Question,
You are a bright, talented little girl, who is capable of doing many things. So what is with the currently non-stop whining, and demands for help? You’ve been dressing yourself for about 2years now. No, I will not pull your underwear up for you. You can do this, I have faith in you!
Love you,
Mom

Dear Truck,
You’ve become quite the little narrator. No one can do anything in this house without your voice-over. This would be far less annoying if you didn’t repeat every sentence at least 3 times.
Love you,
Mom

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I have decided. I did not give birth to children. No, I clearly gave birth to groundhogs.
~cricket, cricket~
Wait, let me explain. See, every 2nd of February, we watch with baited breath as a rodent pops his head out of a hole, and looks around for his shadow. Then we decide when spring will be here, based on whether or not this animal, who can’t talk, sees his shadow or not. And we call it Groundhog’s Day.
This year, good ol’ Phil (that’s the groundhog) said we’d have six more weeks of winter. So how does this tie into my kids again?
They clearly have the ability to predict seasonal change, and the weather.
All last week, we had Drama! and tears at every turn. Truck, who normally hits his head at least once a day doing something dumb, would burst into tears if you looked at him funny. MissQ sobbed hysterically, because she had been out of school for a couple days, and was *convinced* her classmates didn’t miss her. She hadn’t even left for school before that meltdown. And it was like that Every. Day. several times a day.
Even the PETS have been dramatic! The cat and dog have been at it like, well, like cats and dogs. They usually just ignore each other.

But this week? Warmness. Sunshine. Hints of spring maybealmostsortof being here soon.
I’m worried though. Because the drama hasn’t yet subsided. And normally? When my children get antsy, cranky and dramatic? NORMALLY, it’s not followed by nice spring weather. Normally, it is followed by storms, rain, thunder and other less than spring-like weather.
So I’m trying to enjoy the sunshine while I can, because I have a sneaking suspicion it won’t last. Do your kids and pets get all weird before a storm? Or are mine just odd like that?

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I read a post the other day. I’m not going to link to it, because it was a “Goodbye Cruel World! I’m taking my ball and going home.” blog closure post. So who wrote it, and where it was at, is pretty much moot.
But it’s been bugging me, because the attitude of the post is something I’ve seen before.

And it smacks of bitterness and negativity.

Apparently, she was concerned that she was becoming a mommy-blogger. Which, fair enough, I’m not keen to fill the stereotypical mommy-blogger slot. At the same time, I have kids, I talk about them, ergo I figure I’m at least a quasi-mommy-blogger. I can deal with that.

But then she went on to make some sweeping generalizations, that I’ve heard before. I’d like to stress that it’s not this one person I’m all irritated with, it’s just that I’ve heard all this before, and it riled me up the other night, lol

All Mommy Bloggers Are Just Angling For A Book Deal

I’d have to disagree, obviously, or else I wouldn’t bother writing about it, eh?
Yes, I’m sure a good chunk of bloggers would swoon if offered a book deal. But that’s like watching American Idol and complaining that the contestants are just angling for a record deal.
Blogging is writing. Bloggers are writers. Therefore, I would expect that a higher percentage of them hold close (some secretly, some not so secretly) dreams of book deals and publishing contracts, as opposed to your average person who’s just not into writing/blogging.

Your Day is Really Very Boring, and Not Important Enough For Me to Read

Good. Click the X.
In all seriousness, it’s in the way it’s told. Some people are just natural story tellers who CAN make doing the housework into an interesting story. Some of us? Eh, not so much.
But then, not everyone is writing for fame, fortune and book deals. Some are writing for themselves, or to keep in touch with family members. There are a million blogs out there on a million subjects. Some of those subjects don’t hold my interest. Rather than telling that genre that “You all bore me to tears.” I just don’t frequent them.

Your Kids Do Not Shit Glitter

I admit, this one made me smile. Because I think we’ve all known THAT parent. Their kids can do no wrong, ever.
Absolutely dead on, my kids don’t shit glitter. They aren’t perfect. And yes, I fully realize that posts where there is gushing about the wee ones, can be really dull for those who aren’t related to them. Please refer to the Boring rebuttal for suggestions on how to handle this.

Cliques

I’ve seen this accusation time and time again. “You all have a super duper special clique that I can’t get into. Wah.” It goes hand in hand with, “I wrote/tweeted my favorite blogger, who was 120,000 followers, and didn’t get a personal response back!”
There is only so much time in a day, and there are only so many people one person can keep in touch with.
Have I seen groups of women who interact more with each other than with others? Absolutely. Do I consider it a clique. Not usually. Most of the time, it’s just that these women have some common thread linking them. Be it a special needs child, a site they all write for, they live near each other…..there’s an extra commonalty there, that you just might not have. It’s not a personal slight, it’s just life.
Think of it as being at work. You don’t hang out with Every. Single. Coworker. after hours, right? You hang out with a select few that you have more in common with.

My Life is More Than Ass-Wiping and Nose-Blowing

Um, yeah. That would go for most people. Oh sure, some days it SEEMS like that’s all I do. But if it was? Who cares? As long as I’m happy with it, it’s not your place to tell me how lame I am. Again, find the X and move on.

Whew. It felt good to release that. You have no idea how many times I’ve bit my tongue over comments like these.
I suppose your perspective would depend on how you define a mommy-blogger. I guess in my world, a mommy blogger, is a mom who writes about her kids. Not necessarily 100% of the time, but often enough that I can follow their stories.
So, mothers, bloggers and those who aren’t, how do you feel about mommy-bloggers and blogging “cliques”? Do you consider yourself a mommy-blogger? Why or why not?

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