One Perfect Mess

Archive for July, 2010

It is really sucky to wake up with that unmistakable feeling in your chest that you have a cold. I knew the Weebles was a little congested yesterday and now today both kids are on in it. And of course, we needed milk so I drug the three of us coughing pitiful grumpy people to Wal-Mart to pick up a hundred dollars worth of crap we don’t need a gallon of organic milk. After finally managing to get us all back into the house after many distractions, LOOK A BUTTERFLY!, LOOK A STICK!, LOOK MOMMY DREW EATING A ROCK!, I set the milk down on the ironing board (don’t ask) and wouldn’t you know the damn thing caused the weight on the board to shift and the milk smashed to the floor. As it fell through the air in slow motion I debated in my mind whether or not it would spill. It did. It busted open in spectacular fashion and the entire gallon of milk puddled onto my hall and dining room floor. It appears my floors aren’t level either because the river of milk headed in one distinct direction. Noted. It took at least a dozen beach towels to get it up off the floor and the entire time I was doing so was filled with a litany of “Mom, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, what are you doing mommy, Mommy, MOMMY, Mama, Mommy why you put milk on floor mommy, Mommy!!!” We watched TV from then until naptime.

Only ladies that have been pregnant, and I guess doctors, will recognize the title of this post. Pica is this weirdo condition that pregnant ladies sometimes get where they want to eat things they aren’t supposed to. Not like breakfast burritos and entire cases of Snickers, although I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to eat those either but in this case it means things like rocks and ice and pennies of all things. Anyway, every time I would flip by it in the pregnancy books I would giggle because for real on top of all this other SHITE going on with me now I might want to sneak out in the garden and have a handful of dirt. Super, I just looooove being pregnant.

I’m starting to become worried that my little boy is inflicted with this condition. I mean… the Weebles would put things in her mouth when she was really young sometimes. A rock here and there, she tried to eat Play Doh and she taste tested sand at the beach. But nothing… NOTHING like this kid. He is nearly nineteen months old and he still eats things he shouldn’t. He has probably had an entire beach bucket full of sand between beach trips and his sandbox. And he actually thinks Play Doh is a snack! He dives right in. Crayons are another hot treat for him. Every time. Every time he eats the damn things. It  is driving me up the wall. Rocks, dirt, bugs, ice, coins, buttons, leaves… anything you might find on the ground he will try to eat. His CiCi thinks he likes to hunt and gather. I think he likes to see his mother’s brain cells implode. This has been going on for a year! When is he going to outgrow it? Because I’d like to let the kids color now and again.

You know how moms like to do that whole “I was in labor with you for nine days straight” guilt trip when kids get older? Thus far I have been very lucky to have had my deliveries go smoothly, however. HOWEVER! When my kids are in need of a guilt trip in their teen years they are going to hear about the weekend their father and I assembled their godforsaken play house with 500+ screws in 103 degree weather.

I was thinking about how out of kilter my days seem sometimes and after pondering for awhile I came to the conclusion that parenting really exists on two levels.


There is the level up here at adult height: pediatrician appointments, grocery shopping, meal planning, wardrobe buying, laundry, picking up the toys, vacuuming goldfish crumbs out of the sheets, keeping everyone safe, fed, healthy and at least partially sane.


But then there is the parenting that takes place down on their level. Zooming trains around a wooden track, making a million Play Doh snakes, paging through books, getting decorated head to toe with stickers and looking at the world from their point of view. I totally suck at parenting at this level. I do not know what on earth blockage I have going on that keeps me from being able to enjoy it. I always feel like the other level is calling: dinner isn’t getting made, blog posts aren’t getting written, oh! I promised I’d email the grandparents a photo. But, I am determined to commit more time to the business of parenting with my children instead of simply around them. When I can make myself slow down enough to really sit down with them I do enjoy it. Their little faces light up and they immediately start taking over. Sticker to the forehead, check. Play horsey, check. Stick finger in mom’s nose, check. Hmm maybe I do see after all why I seem to get called away.

I have seen this rant from other moms before and while I understood their point I didn’t really GET their frustration until it happened to me. I recognize that traditionally men acted inept when it came to taking care of their children back in the good ol’ days. But isn’t it time to put that way of thinking to rest? Plenty of times growing up it was the dad of the family  that was the one around on the weekend to play with my friends and I. While my own father rarely filled that role, it certainly didn’t seem odd to me that most of friends’ dads did. So it isn’t like this it totally a new concept here.

I rarely RARELY have anything to say about my MIL that isn’t glowing. But she just won’t let it go how totally amazing and fantastic it is that Andrew is so “great” with the kids. He is their DAD! Of course he knows how to care for them. Why aren’t they considered every bit as much his responsibility as mine? Of course he loves them and plays with them. My husband really is a super dad and for that I count our family lucky. But to hear her go on about it plants the seed in my mind that she thinks he shouldn’t be expected to do the things he does. And I feel he should. I feel all moms AND dads should love and care for their children to the best of their abilities. You never hear anybody say “Isn’t it amazing how that mom knows how to dress her children. AND make their lunches. It is just so terrific she is able to do that” or “I can’t believe she emptied the dishwasher today!” During the week when I am at home with them and he is at work the burden for their care falls 100% to me, obviously. But when he is home it  makes sense for that to balance out. So can we please quit acting like dads are doing something above and beyond when they go out in the backyard and play in the kiddie pool instead of sitting in front of a football game? They aren’t babysitting, they are parenting. Which IS extraordinary by the way, for us moms too.

It is so hot. How hot you ask? So hot that the high today was 93 and the headlines actually said “front brings in cooler temperatures.” Sweet Mother of God. The heat is annoying me in all sorts of ways. It is totally miserable to go anywhere. Even just walking from the door to the car is unbearable. Of course if my children could walk at a normal pace directly from point A to point B it wouldn’t be that bad. But any mom knows that ain’t the way it goes down. There is a lot of stopping, doubling back, checking out cracks in the sidewalk, stopping to randomly stare into space, sitting down on the sidewalk to remove your shoe and so on. While the neighbors think I am mother from hell because I’m like “LET’S GO, MOVE IT MOVE IT.” Sigh. Making things extra strange is the fact that our air conditioner is working too well which believe me… I’m glad. Still, I’m freezing all day long indoors. I have had both myself and the kids in sweatpants all week for naptime. We’ve been doing a whole bunch of huddling under blankets and watching TV. This comes back to bite me in the ass at bedtime when neither of the kids are tired because all they’ve done all afternoon is laze around. Not today my friend. This afternoon when these monkeys get up from nap I am hauling out the new bouncy house and throwing them in it. I’m wearing their tiny booties out because I am all sorts of tired of little people that are still awake at 10:30 at night. Might as well take advantage of the “cold front” and get outside.

The Peanut celebrated his half birthday this past weekend. I’m starting to get antsy that the gap between him and the next baby is going to be longer than I’d like now that I’ve had two so close. While the second pregnancy was very tough mentally the transition for the Weebles between being an only child and having a sibling was blissfully easy since she was so young. It was almost like he had always been there but she just then noticed him. However, if she is four and he is two and a half going on three… they will most definitely notice a new sibling. How they will react is anybody’s guess.
Anyway, Peanut at a year and a half. No surprise that he is walking, running, climbing, going up and down steps all with great confidence. He is working on jumping, for now it just looks like a strange little skipping motion. My little boy loves LOVES swimming and splashing in the pool. I can’t wait to get him to the beach next week because he will be in heaven with all that water. Eating is hit or miss these days. Breakfast and lunch we have at the table in the living room so there are probably too many distractions. Dinner we always have at the kitchen table and he will usually eat fairly well. His likes: peas, spaghetti, popsicles, apple sauce, raisins, grapes, blueberries, m&ms and sausage.

His verbal skills seem really great to me. He says things like “mommy, why tv off?” which totally blows my mind. This morning he said “oh no! my chair!” when his sister took his chair. He forms sentences like that probably a dozen times a day. Other words he usually frequently: SiSi, Popsicle, Bouncy House, booberries, GiGi (his blankie), Mimi’s (nursing), poooool, flower, Mana, Papa, Granddaddy.

Peanut has settled into a fairly reliable pattern of napping once a day while his sister does. Luckily we have moved away from him having to nap in his car seat now that we have given in and put a bed on the floor of our room. He can sleep there while I am upstairs tucking his sister in without worrying about him rolling off the regular bed onto the floor. It still amazes me that he sleeps less than his older sister. They sleep about the same amount of time at night but she naps at least an hour longer than he does most days.

Favorite activities: playing with his cars, buses, and trains. Going for walks outside, jumping in the bouncy house, splashing in the baby pool or playing with the water toys on the back porch. He loves to empty the dishwasher, unfortunately he puts everything on the floor that he takes out of it! When he gets overtired he will bury his face in my leg/arm/whatever he can reach and bite me. We’re working on that.

I think this is the most adorable age. I really do. He is so busy all the time and is constantly doing something super cute. He knows when he is misbehaving and thinks it is hilarious. He will give you this devilish little grin and go right on putting rocks in his mouth or pulling the cats tail. Somehow I doubt that is going to change much. Does that Red Bull stuff really give you energy? Sigh.