If you give a mom a moment, she’s going to close her eyes and rest.

If you close your eyes for a moment, you’re going to fall asleep.

If you fall asleep, you’re going to wake up and discover that the kids have sneaked out of the room.

If the kids sneak out of the room, they’re going to get up to mischief.

If they are getting up to mischief, it’s probably going to be messy.

If the kids make a mess, you’ll have to clean it up.

While you’re cleaning it up, they’ll make another mess.

When they make another mess, you’ll decide it’s naptime.

If it’s naptime you’ll need to tuck them in.

After you tuck them in, they’ll need hugs and kisses.

After hugs and kisses, they MIGHT fall asleep.

If they fall asleep, mom will want to take a moment to herself.

And if you give a mom a moment….

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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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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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Apparently. And I can’t really duck my own assignment, so…on with the show! Want to play along? It’s not too late! Click the link above to see what’s going on!

Introductions don’t come easy to me. It’s part of that social anxiety thing. “New people? OMG, where’s that rock I prefer to hide under!”

Oh look, I just told you something about me! Woohoo! Off to a great start.

My name is Jen, and I live in a very small town in Wisconsin. I have two children, one of each flavor, and a husband.

I juggle many roles in my day to day life, and sometimes I drop the ball. I try to be honest in this space, even if it means being vulnerable, because I want others to know that they aren’t alone.

If you look in the sidebar, you can see which posts get the most hits and comments. And I like most of them. But some of my personal favorites didn’t make that list.You’ll find them sprinkled throughout this post.

I hope you feel like you know me a little bit better now, if not feel free to check out my About page.

Much love,

Jen Thepsychobabble

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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 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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It’s Cooking Time!
Part of the problem with winter weather, is finding things for the short people to do. Since Miss Question has a love of all things culinary, cooking is always a favorite activity. And Truck just jumps right in.
Plus, if they’re cooking, that’s one less meal I have make.

So we gathered our supplies, and got busy with it. We made sure to wash our hands first, of course. Safety and all.
I used pre-made pizza crusts.(We like Boboli’s You can find them in the refrigerated section, with rolls and such. Although I’ve also found them in the pasta/sauces aisle. So I guess it’s pretty much a toss up. When letting the kids make them, I usually choose the 8″ ones. That way, each kid gets one. More fun that way:)

First we got out the olive oil, a little garlic powder, and the parmesan cheese. Drizzle a little olive oil on the crust, let the kids spread it around with the back of a spoon. Sprinkle on a little garlic powder, followed by a sprinkling of the parmesan. Depending on the age of your kid, you may need to help with sprinkling. I do it for Truck, Miss Question always makes her own attempt. Although sometimes…

You may wind up with a pile. No biggie, just spread it around with the spoon, scrape off any excess if you’d like (say, if it was the garlic powder)

Here we have our pizza staples, the sauce, some shredded mozzarella, and pepperoni. Use whatever toppings you think your kids will eat. Miss Question prefers mushrooms on her pizzas, while Truck is more of a meat fan.

I prefer to use either the squeeze bottles of pizza sauce(more fun, lol), or a resealable jar. You’re not going to need a whole can for 2 8 inch pizzas. We use probably 2-3 tablespoons of sauce per crust. Adjust it for your own taste, of course. And just spread it around, again using the back of a spoon.

As you can see in this photo, we usually put on a thin layer of cheese, and then our toppings. We’ll then put a second thin layer of cheese on top of that. I’m not sure why we do it that way, we just do.
You can also see Truck sneaking in some taste samples. Another benefit to indivual pizzas. The only one getting a dinner with a side of Truck germs, is Truck!

We then popped them in the oven at about 375F, for about 8 minutes.
My oven is a little wonky, and tends to cook fast, so be sure to check out the directions for whatever crusts you’re using.

And TaDa! Dinner. And because they helped make it, you know they’ll eat it.
So tell me, do your kids help out in the kitchen? What foods do they prefer to make?

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Some days I feel more like the Warden than the mom. The past two weeks, I have spent *at least* an hour every morning sitting here in the kids’ room.
For some reason, between the hours of 7 and 8, my children feel the need to empty every drawer, container and box of Every. Single. Toy. they own.
Yet they assume that mom will be ever-so-willing to help with the clean-up. And I did. The first few times.
At this point, I just provide motivation. See, breakfast is not served until this room? It is clean.
Which means they have been eating breakfast around 10-ish most days.
I’m so frustrated with the whole situation. I have no desire to play hard-ass prison warden first thing in the morning. None.
I’m out of ideas. We tried moving the toys out of the room for a long while, but then it really *did* seem like a prison cell in here!
I tried making them stay up here until they picked it up on their own, but when I checked on them after 30min, I’m pretty sure not one toy had been moved.
*sigh* If you’ll excuse me, we’re down to the last handful of toys, and it seems the kids have quit putting anything away…..

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Over winter break, I decided to do something special with the girl-child. Just me and her.

So we went out to eat, and bonus! They were doing face-painting (okay, so when you’re with a four year old, any restaurant where they bring the food to you, instead of ordering it at a counter, is special)

And then we went to see “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs” at this awesome little theater. $2 apiece to get in the door, and they serve booze to you in your seat.
I told her to show me how excited she was…

clearly, very excited.
It was a good time. I can’t wait to do it again! And for $4 total admission? How can I not?

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