The Mom Before Christmas

I’m the Mom before Christmas, welcome to my home!

Have you met my children? Here’s Piss and here’s Moan

 

They’re overtired and cranky and had too much cake.

F you, sugar…it’s 10! WHY ARE THEY STILL AWAKE!

 

The parties we’ve been to have taken their toll.

Getting them back on schedule is sucking my soul.

 

We decorated the house and hung every stocking.

I think they look straight…that could be the Nog talking.

 

I shopped and I shopped and I fought all the crowds.

 And I didn’t punch even one person.  So proud!

 

The pies are all baked but no thanks to me.

Cause I don’t do that shit, yo! I just buy Sarah Lee.

 

The damn tree is trimmed and the presents are wrapped.

Don’t ask us for more cause your parents are strapped.

 

Santa is coming! But I’ve done all the work.

That’s why I always say that guy’s a real jerk.

 

My kids asked for a toy and they’re happy to get it.

I spend all the damn cash, Santa gets all the credit!

 

But their faces lit up makes it worth all the stress.

Even though I’m now poor and my house is a mess.

 

I can’t be mad though, cause I love Christmastime!

Merry Christmas to all, and to all some good wine!

No Home Alone for You

One of my favorite parts of the holiday season is getting to watch my Christmas movies.

 

Other movies you could watch at any moment of the year.  Assuming of course that your kids don’t suck every ounce of life from you during the day and after they go to bed you actually have the staying power to sit down and watch a movie.  It doesn’t happen here…but hypothetically speaking you could watch any movie at any time.

One of my favorite Christmas movies is Home Alone.  The first one.  Actually, the second one is good too.  By the time they got to the third though…WTF! Knock it off.  Anyway, the first is the best by far. 

As with any holiday tradition that you enjoy, I am waiting for the day when I can sit down with my kids and watch that movie and laugh and laugh.  I know they would get a kick out of it and I would love it even more watching them enjoy the movie alongside me.

But not this year.

I’m not sure when I’ll feel safe letting Carter experience Home Alone but I can definitely say I’m not there yet.  I have a few good reasons…

1.       The Line “Look what you did, you little jerk!”

Because it will undoubtedly become his new favorite thing to say.  To Grant. 

And don’t little brothers have enough to worry about without having shithead lines hand fed to their tormenters by Hollywood? 

2.       The maternal guilt factor in this film is just not fair.

Seriously, the mom is freaking the hell out and going crazy and the dad is all like “Whatever, we’ll get there when we get there…anyone have a crepe?”

Hello! Dude, why is your wife the only one who cares that your young child is home alone?  At very least I think my husband would be paranoid that Carter would break something in the house that he would eventually have to fix.  So he’d want to get his ass home if only for damage control purposes.

Moms have enough trouble being guilty about mundane every day matters.  Do we have to put up with this crap when we watch movies too?  The film basically says “Hey Moms, everything that goes wrong ever in life is your fault.  YOU’RE the one who put him in that attic in the first place.  NO ONE ELSE has any responsibility here whatsoever.  You deserve every second of polka music that you had to endure.  Merry Christmas ya filthy animal!”

3.       The police in this town are completely worthless.

God forbid you take more than two seconds to look around the house.  You must be so busy enforcing law in suburban Middle America that you couldn’t POSSIBLY do anything besides ring the doorbell to investigate this matter. 

Police officers are among Carter’s heroes.  I want him to call on them in times of need instead of saying “Eh, I saw Home Alone…they aren’t gonna really do anything anyway. That kid was stuck in his house for days.”

4.       I routinely scare the shit out of him by threatening to leave the house without him.

Before watching Home Alone:

“Put your coat on…”

“Let me just make this guy do a back flip first.”

“Put your coat on now or I’m leaving without you…ok…bye.”

“NOOOOOO!  Ok, I’m putting my coat on!”

After watching Home Alone:

“Put your coat on…”

“Let me just make this guy do a back flip first.”

“Put your coat on now or I’m leaving without you…ok…bye.”

“Ok, see ya.  I’ll just sled down the stairs and eat pizza while you’re gone!”

If he thinks being home by himself is going to be a blast I lose all credibility.  I need this card.  I play it often.  I once actually pulled out of the driveway without him because he wouldn’t put his shoes on.  I thought his head was going to explode he was so upset. The therapy bill for that one is gonna be large.  Whatever, he put the damn shoes on after that…worth it in my book.  How else would I get  his ass out the door most days?  He must continue to believe being left alone in his house is a bad thing. Screw you Kevin for making it look like a party.

5.       Um…EVERYTHING KEVIN DOES TO THE BURGLERS!

Hey , Cart! Here is a bunch of dangerous yet HILARIOUS shit for you to try!  Blow torches are a ball!  Have you tried making someone step on a nail lately?  Good times, good times. 

I know for a fact that if I let Carter watch this movie his evil genius brain is going to start working overtime.  I will actually expect smoke to come out of his f’ing ears because he’s so busy plotting how to throw together any one of the extra super cool booby traps that he just viewed. 

I’ll have to start sleeping with one eye open…and flicking water on all my doorknobs to test if they’re hot. 

So yeah, I’m not ready for this yet.  Maybe next year. But probably more like when he’s 25…and doesn’t live with me anymore. 

He's Making a List

Well, it’s that time of year again. Christmas is right around the corner.  Time to buy more shit for my kids that they don’t need and we don’t have space for.

Every single toy store has figured out that if you want to increase sales you need to appeal directly to your target audience.  That’s why the covers on all of the toy catalogues are BRIGHT GREEN or FLORESCENT YELLOW…so your children will be sure to spot them in the pile of other mundane crappiness that the mailman delivers these days.  (Seriously, does anyone get anything other than bills in their mail anymore?)

So my kids have started looking through these catalogues and circling what they hope to receive for Christmas.  It’s been a very long process because a new one comes to my house literally every single day. 

And while we’re on this topic:

Dear American Girl Doll Company,

Sending your catalogue to a mom of two boys clearly makes you guilty of intentional infliction of emotional distress and can be considered cruel and unusual punishment.  My lawsuit against you is pending…

I digress.

My kids have started making lists. 

Carter’s list is all over the damn place and includes outrageous requests:

“Santa won’t be able to fit a Jeep Grand Cherokee with monster truck tires in his bag.”

And everything he’s ever heard of or looked at:

 “Florida is a state, not a Christmas gift.”

 And some things I’m relatively sure he has no fucking clue what they are:

“No…you can’t have the Mir Space Station for Christmas.”

This week I made them each come up with two big and three small things that they really reeeeeeallllly wanted to get for Christmas.  Santa has started her shopping and she’ll be damned if anyone comes up with an 11^th hour request that they simply cannot live without. You’re writing a list now and you’re sticking to that list, kid!

Carter was predictable at first: Legos and Power Rangers.  Fine.

But then he hit me with: “I want a Tennessee Titans football helmet.”

Hey, Random Boy…we live in Boston.  WTF is with the Tennessee Titans?

His next choice of gift was a map. 

Um, if I buy you the map does it get me out of buying you the out of commission Russian space station?

Your list is really running the gamut here.

Ok, whatever, I’ll get you the random football helmet even though it’s gonna get you beat up on the playground, some Lego ninja shit and the best map that money can buy.

Well, one kid down and he’s the tough one.  I was thinking Grant would be a breeze.  Only, he sucked even worse than his brother.

Know what he asked for? A new car seat.  Yup.  Car seat.  Every three year olds dream gift!

You’ve got to be shitting me kid. 

I tried to get him to give me an idea that didn’t suck Christmas balls and this is what I got…

“I want something long.”

Is there any way you can be more vague here? That would really help me out.

Clearly I was going to have to come up with ideas of my own.  So I grabbed a bottle glass of wine and did some online shopping…

The Cool Mom in me: "I'm gonna buy my kids these cool light up swords they've been asking for! They'll be from Santa. They're gonna love them!"

 The Frugal Mom in me: "And man did I get a good deal! They'll look big and impressive in the pile but they're so cheap!"

 The Sane Mom in me: "Woah! What the fuck are you two doing? You bought our kids WEAPONS for Christmas? Bitches be crazy!"

The lesson here, my friends, is don’t drink and shop. 

This is exactly how Carter ended up with a drum set last year. 

You, With the Face

Hey You….You, with the face. 

I see you.  And I don’t like you very much.

What? You’ve never seen a two year old throw a shoe before? Or a 16 month old poke his brother in the eye with a cookie?  Or a three year old refuse to take one more step until you make his jacket less bumpy?

Maybe you don’t have little kids.  Maybe you forget what it’s like to have little kids.  Maybe you’re just a douche…

Whatever the reason, You, with the face, I want to tell you that it’s an unnecessarily harsh face. 

Because the only possible reason to make that face it to alert me to the fact that you disapprove of whatever me or my kids happen to be doing at that moment. 

Seriously, it’s not just that you think my child should be acting a certain way.  It’s that you want me to KNOW how you feel.  You want me to see your face.  You want me to feel shame. You want me to change my actions in some way to make them less offensive to you. 

Oh ,You! You don’t get it.  You can think I’m a failure as a mother or that my kids are little monsters and guess what?  You can do it all INSIDE YOUR OWN HEAD! Without the face.  You can make comments about my parenting skills to your friends when you get home.  Without the face.  You can vow to never raise your kids that way or rush home and kiss your perfect angel children and thank them for never acting up in public.  All without the face. 

Sometimes when your kids are being wild jerks and running around a store and playing tag in the racks it’s perfectly acceptable to grab them and tell them that the store manager is going to call to police.  And the police are going to take them off to jail.  And there are NO LEGOS in jail. 

And then sometimes after a mom deals with that situation she looks up and sees you.  You, with the face. 

And she has a sudden incredibly strong urge to rip your face off your head.  Because know what your face does?  It makes her burst out into tears in the middle of Target because she’s trying to pack four people for a weekend away for a family wedding and her husband needed last minute pants and her dog sitter just cancelled on her and her kids are terrorizing her life. 

And then there’s your face.  Do you feel proud of your face right now? 

And some other time that same mother might be at a farm with her kids and one of the kids has some gastro-intestinal issues and his underwear does not survive the experience.  And he’s in the single stall public bathroom in the itty bitty store with the delicious donuts and the cute overpriced toy tractors and he’s screaming.  He’s screaming: “WHY ARE YOU THROWING MY UNDERWEAR AWAY! I LOVE MY SCOOBY DOO UNDERWEAR! PUT IT IN YOUR PURSE AND WASH IT WHEN WE GET HOME!”

And that mother is mortified because without a doubt everyone in the five by five foot store can clearly hear what’s going on.  And she hisses through clenched teeth that if her son shuts the hell up about the underwear she will personally hire Scooby Doo himself to come and wrap his furry body around her son’s ass and act as his underwear for a whole month. 

And the poor un-named mother who this happened to last week takes a deep breath and exits the bathroom.  And of course, there you are standing there. You, with the face!

And that mother just happens to look down and notice that, along with your face, you are also sporting a very sizable bump.  And maybe that mother summons all her self-control and does not say “You’ll be here someday too, bitch!”

OK, maybe she secretly hopes and prays that this exact scenario happens to you…but she also hopes that if it does someone will be waiting outside the bathroom door, not with a face, but with an understanding eye or an “Anything I can do to help?”.

So stop it.  Stop making the face.  Us moms are aware of how awful our kids can be.  Your face doesn’t make any difference in their behavior.  We don’t really care if you disapprove of our actions because all we’re trying to do is survive a trip to the grocery store and leave with around the same amount of kids we went in with. 

All your face does is make me want to punch it.  And I can’t punch it. Cause, along with no Legos...there’s no wine in jail either.

New Pet

The other day I overheard my kids talking in the playroom:

“Oh!  He’s so cute! Let’s keep him as a pet.”

“Where should we put him?”

“How bout in the microwave.”

Woah!

“What the heck are you guys doing?”

“We found an ant…we’re gonna keep him as a pet.  The toy microwave is gonna be his house.”

Ok well I at least feel a little better that they weren’t planning on putting him in the actual microwave because the last time they found an ant in the playroom they killed it and then had this conversation:

Grant: “The ant is dead.”

Carter: “Ok, go get the mustang and we’ll put him in the trunk.”

And then I had to ask myself…on a scale of one to Goodfellas where should my level of concern be?

So, I mean, wanting to keep it as a pet is better than wanting to give it a pair of cement shoes, right?

Ok, back to the problem at hand…

“You can’t keep an ant as a pet.”

“Why not?”

“Well they’re bugs and bugs live outside.  And they don’t live in microwaves.”

“Why not?”

“Cause what if you want to heat something up?  Then you’ll cook the ant.”

“Mom, it’s just a TOY microwave.”

Sometimes I really hate having smart, wise-ass little kids.  Oh no wait…that’s all the time…I all the time hate having smart, wise-ass little kids.

“Whatever, you’re not keeping it.  Where’s it gonna sleep?”

“I already thought about that…”

He already thought about that.  Naturally he did.

“I put a nice comfy block in there for him.”

Raise your hand if the last time you looked a block the word “comfy” came to mind.

“Well, anyway, no. You don’t know what they eat, it probably can’t breathe, it belongs outside and also like one million other reasons why keeping an ant in a microwave on a comfy block is a bad idea.”

“But we want a pet!”

“We have two dogs!”

“But I want a pet that I can pat and snuggle with!”

Am I on hidden camera?  Or do my kids really just want a nice snuggly ant?

We had to go do something at that point so I had to let them leave the ant in the microwave for at least a little bit longer.  Carter put it on his dresser in his room.  Which, I have to say, was a step up from his first suggestion of letting it sleep in his bed. 

We came home later that night and I had forgotten all about Anty (which is what they named it by the way, because they’re super creative like that).  But unfortunately the kids hadn’t forgotten about Anty at all.

“Can he sleep in my bed?”

Is “FUCK NO!” an acceptable answer to give your 5 year old when he’s asking for a bug to have a sleepover?  Instead I just firmly vetoed that plan.  At this point checked in with our little miro-block-ant and found him just walking around and around in a little circle.  Now, either he was doing some laps trying to stay fit or he was going brain dead from lack of oxygen.  Since the latter was more probable I suggested maybe it was time to let Anty get back outside and join the rest of his ant family under the god damned ground where they belong!

There was a lot of fighting and some tears but I finally convinced Carter to release the prisoner…um…I mean, pet.  I told him I would put him out but he insisted on doing it himself.  It was like that scene from Old Yeller: “It’s my ant mom, I’ll do it.”

Now, did I forget to mention that my husband was out of town during this whole ant-scapade? Cause he was. Jerk. So I was flying solo on the dream-crushing ant-denying front.

I finally get the ant outside, the boys in bed, the wine poured and the TV on when suddenly…

“Waaaaaahhh!!!  We miss Anty!”

Both kids; hysterical over the loss of their bug.  As I sat there listening to my babies all upset and sad I decided to do what any good mother would have done in exactly this situation….turn up the volume and pour another glass.  Ah! Now that’s better!

RIP Anty.

Raising Those Funds

It’s back to school time! Know what that means?

It means last week when I picked up the kids and looked in their backpacks I found two crappy magazines filled with overpriced junk that I now have to sell to my closest friends and family.

If you just read that and think you may fall into one of those categories I won’t be offended if you suddenly cut all ties with me, block my phone number, unfriend me on all social media sites and go into witness protection just to be safe. 

It’s what I would do.

Unless, of course, you really need a decorative doily declaring your love for olives.  If that’s the case hit me up, I’ve got you covered.

It’s at times like these when I’m really glad to have my best friend in my life.  Cause I called her up this morning and said:

“Do you want the $25 candle that you can get for $7 in the store or the $32 dollar mug that says “Hooray! I’m happy that we’re friends and shit” or something along those lines on it…??”

Do other people promote their children’s products like that?  If not I suggest you start cause I was able to sell her two owl shaped candle holders that she probably didn’t need and will most likely use infrequently.

Ok, ok, I know there are some of you out there saying “Don’t be so mean…schools need to raise funds!”

Yes, I realize that.  I just wish they didn’t have to raise funds by selling a spatula that has one end specifically for peanut butter and one end specifically for jelly.  Us jerks who cross contaminate the two scoff at this idea. 

What do you do if you need to make a quick PB&J and your fancy spatula is dirty?  Does all hell break loose?  Although, if you’re the type of person who owns this culinary wonder you’re probably also the type of person who runs their dishwasher frequently enough that this will never be an issue.  Good for you.

And Carter’s fundraiser has little rewards for those kids who sell the highest number of unnecessary garbage to their unsuspecting relatives.  So if you don’t sell stuff your kid may end up being the only asshole in class without a keychain shaped like a smiley face.  And then I think a member of the PTO comes in and explains to him that his parents didn’t care enough about his well-being to make their friends buy $15 wrapping paper…

I really want my kid to feel rewarded for all of the work that I’M doing harassing the shit out of people so I asked my husband to take the catalogue into work with him.

“You remember that I’m an engineer right?  My workplace is 95% males.  Did you want me to try and sell them the plate with a poem about family on it or the $21 lip gloss?” 

Don’t be silly honey! Neither of those.  I was just hoping you could hock a couple subscriptions to Women’s World Magazine…

Obviously I have to buy something from this marvelous selection of fine items.  I was gonna go with a pan that makes your pancakes look like little smiley bear faces but eating things that are smiling at me freaks me out and I don’t want to pass that on to my children:  Oh come here little cute bear! You look so nice and friendly! I bet you have a cuddly family and everything too, huh?  Ok…I’m gonna stab you in the face now…

I came to the chocolate section and thought, ok now we’re talking, finally something I can get on board with.  But it was $12 for 12 puny little chocolates.  Are you kidding me?  They better be made with, like, angel tears or unicorn breath for that price. 

The moral of the story is if you see my number come up on your caller ID any time over the next two  weeks you should probably just ignore me.

Why can’t this be a thing…

 

I would overpay for wine any day of the week.  There's always next year.

The Trip of a Lifetime

Congratulations…you just had a baby!

I know things are overwhelming right now but I wanted to be the first to tell you to pack your bags…cause you’re going on a trip!

Are you excited?

Well don’t be. 

Sorry, I know I just got you all hyped up with my big trip news but now I have to also be the one to tell you that the trip you’re going on sucks.  It’s awful.  And you’ll be on it for a while.  What am I talking about?

Why, the Mommy (and Daddy) Guilt Trip of course!

It seems like every time I go online I see a new blog, quote, story, picture, hieroglyphic detailing how great moms should act…

“Enjoy your kids now because this time won’t last” or “You only have this day with your kids once so don’t waste it”.

The message here is that good moms make every moment count with their kids and never need a break because if you take a break or aren’t having fun during every single second then there is something wrong with you and just THINK of all the moments you lost!

Parenthood has its ups and downs.  You’re going to enjoy a lot of it.  But there are going to be moments where it’s not as fun and you’re gonna want to throw your hands up and scream “What the F!?!?” And then the internet will show you an example of parents doing it “right” and you’ll be like “Oh, yeah.  I totally forgot I was supposed to feel guilty for everything I’m not doing for my kids.  Thanks so much for reminding me, Internet!”

When I see those kinds of posts the guilt automatically sets in.  Because I usually come across them at the end of a long day where my kids fought to the death for hours and I screamed a lot.  And on those days I don’t want to stop time and take in every detail.  I want them to go the hell to sleep already so I can sit in peace and quiet and drink my wine.

But then they’ll finally be asleep and I’ll read something about how I’m supposed to be savoring every  minute of my time as a mom and then I’ll think about the day I had and get all sad and think “SHIT! I totally forgot to enjoy my kids today!”

Let me tell you something, it’s really hard to enjoy someone who is telling you he wishes the police would come arrest you because you said he couldn’t have another cookie. 

But nevertheless when I see one of my friends has reposted some sappy quote about motherhood I automatically start to tear up and vow that tomorrow, tomorrow I will enjoy everything my kids do. 

I’ll even enjoy the annoying thing Grant does where he sits on the toilet and slams the vanity door open and shut over and over just to be an asshole and make noise cause he knows I hate it when he does that and also, he’s definitely going to break it off one of these days and we can’t afford to replace it right now…

But guess what?  The next day, oddly enough, I STILL DON’T ENJOY THAT!

And I yell at him to stop.  But then I remember the thing I read about the mom who used to yell at her kids all the time but she realized how bad it was for them so she stopped…and then all of a sudden rainbows sprung up all around the town and the world was a happier place. 

Right.  No yelling.  Got it. 

But then Carter is teasing Grant and I calmly ask him ten times to please stop being a douche to his brother but the message is not getting through so I MUST yell.  And then I immediately feel guilty because the internet told me that only nasty troll moms raise their voices to their kids. 

And wanna know what else?  I didn’t enjoy that moment with my offspring either.  So two strikes for me. 

One thing I try really hard to do is read to my kids every day.  You’re supposed to do that, ya know.  But some days are just busy and exhausting and I’m not even sure if I said the word “book” that day, never mind actually open one.  And when they ask me for a show before bed instead of reading I say yes. 

But then I start feeling guilty because, come to think of it, did we read yesterday at all?  When was the last time I sat down and read to them?  That bookshelf is looking a little dusty.  OH MY GOD! Their brains must be at least half mush by now. Can I double up on the reading tomorrow?  Does this work like that?

There have been nights where I literally lay awake worrying about all the things I’m feeling guilty over:

-Have my kids eaten a vegetable this week?

-I haven’t ever taken my kids to a museum.  Everyone else takes their kids to museums. 

-I let Carter eat that M&M he found on the floor at Target.  If he gets dysentery from that I’m gonna be screwed.

-Today I told Grant to hurry up.  According to recent internet data you’re not supposed to rush your children.  I hope I didn’t royally F him up for the rest of his life.  I probably did though.

Once you have a kid you feel badly about everything.  You’ll see other moms doing it “better” and you’ll wonder why you can’t keep up. 

But you never know.  The mom who you look at and wonder how the hell she always has homemade organic snacks for her kids might be looking at you wondering how you managed to shower AND blow-dry your hair this morning.  (And you’ll look at her and say ‘Cause my kids love TV, sucka!'...and then you'll feel guilty about the fact that your kids watch too much TV.)

Other moms aren’t doing it better, their doing it differently.  And it’s ok that you sometimes yell (a lot) and sometimes don’t enjoy your kids (cause sometimes they suck) because there are plenty of times when you don’t yell and you enjoy the crap out of your kids because they’re funny and adorable and snuggly. 

So let’s all stop letting other people’s versions of the perfect parent define our self-worth.  This just in: There is no such thing as "doing it all". You make sacrifices, you let some things go and focus on what is important to you and your family...which may or may not be what's important to me and my family.  And more power to ya!

Let’s stop feeling guilty and bad about ourselves because someone on the internet tells us we wasted our day not soaking up every aspect of parenthood.  Enjoy the good, screw the bad, drink some wine.  Now that’s parenthood in a nutshell. 

I Don't Have a Ferret

I don’t have a ferret. 

But I have a friend who has a ferret. 

I don’t really know how ferrets are supposed to behave.  I don’t know what they eat or where they sleep.  My friend could tell me that it’s completely normal for her ferret to glow in the dark or sing show tunes and I’d have to believe her.  Because I don’t have a ferret.

You may have already come to this conclusion but let me give you a hint…this blog entry is not about ferrets.

This blog entry is about a comment I happened to catch that came from a childless person.  The comment involved…you guessed it…the person ranting about someone else’s parenting skills.  Oh, my favorite! I love it when non-ferret having people put in their two cents.  I love it even more when they are total assholes about it!

The extremely short version of the story is that this person witnessed a parent do something that they would NEVER do! They would have handled the situation differently.  They would have done what a “good parent” would have done.  Thus making this mother a “bad parent”.  (It's obviously a more detailed story but I'm trying to protect the rights of the not-so-innocent.  Trust me when I tell you there was nothing wrong with what the mom did.)

Geez! What a bitch that mother must be.  I mean, to go out of her way like that to be a bad parent?  It’s just awful.  I bet she wakes up every day and thinks “I wonder what I can do today to really solidify my role as ‘bad mother’? God, I hope some stranger on the street sees me parenting and makes nasty judgments about me.  Cause that’s what I need more of in my life!”

Comments like this make my blood boil.  In fact, I had to wait a while before writing down my thoughts.  I wanted to sit down right at the moment it happened and start this blog but I was afraid it would turn nasty and sound like this: OH MY FUCKING GOD YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!  OF ALL THE STUPID DOUCHBAGY THINGS I’VE EVER HEARD IN MY LIFE…

But I took some time to think about it and although I’m still bothered by the situation I no longer feel the need to swear in all caps…I’m gonna swear in regular type instead.

At first I thought the fact that this person was not a parent was what bothered me the most.  I thought, who the hell are you to say what a “good parent” would do in this situation?  You have absolutely no idea what it’s like to try to navigate motherhood. 

But then I thought, ya know, that’s really not fair.  There are plenty of childless people in the world who are AMAZING with kids and who do know, at least in part, what it’s like to try and raise a child.  Teachers, nannies, coaches, etc.  Just because you don’t have a child doesn’t make you completely unable to relate or offer your advice. 

So what was it about this incident that made me so angry?  What was sticking with me? 

Then it dawned on me.  The judgment.  That was it. 

The fact that this person, childless or not, was certain beyond any doubt that the mother was wrong.  So, so wrong.  Without any knowledge of the situation, without any background information on the people involved, without even knowing the people involved.  The child was overreacting, the parent was coddling.  That’s it.  Black and white.  Right and wrong. 

Judgment.

And we all do it.  People are unbelievably, frighteningly quick to judge parents on the way they raise their kids.  I do it.  I’m guilty.  But I’m trying to quit.  I’m down to one pack a day…wait…that’s not the right analogy…

We all see people’s status updates about “that misbehaving kid at the park” or the mother who “didn’t even discipline her child after he threw sand” or “can you believe she lets them eat/play/watch/read that?”

I posted this type of status a few months ago about something I witnessed at the park…and someone called me on it.  I realized then how much people judge without even thinking about it.  I certainly didn’t mean to sound like a self-riotous son of a bitch but I did.  I really did. 

Shit! I’ve become the people that I blog about! Noooooo! I hate being judged (and let’s be honest I give people plenty of material) but I have no problem jumping to conclusions about others.

Let’s go back to my ferret loving friend, shall we?

Say that I did, in fact, have a ferret.  I know everything there is to know about my ferret and his behavior.  I know why he acts the way he acts, I know his history, I know his experiences, I know aaaaaaaallllllll about my ferret.

Then say I witnessed how my friend was raising her ferret and it’s different from how I’m choosing to care for mine.  And so I’m all like “Psssssh! Girlfriend, PLEASE! That is so NOT how you take care of a ferret!”

But how do I know what the absolute right way to take care of a ferret is?  I may have a ferret but I don’t have THAT ferret.  And maybe THAT ferret is a little different from MY ferret.  And maybe I’m a bitch for thinking my way is the only way.  Who are we kidding, I’m definitely a bitch. 

We all know the basics of how to care for another human being.  We watch the news and we know what “bad” parents really look like.  So let’s stop confusing different with bad.  I’m going to make an effort.  Join me.  Because us parents need a break.

And if all else fails, know what I’m going to do? 

Get a ferret.

(But only if it’s the glow in the dark kind.)

Sick

Carter’s not feeling well. 

Here is a quick list of things I’d rather have happen than have Carter not feel well…I’d rather:

-Have jury duty for a full month.

-Be stuck on hold with my cable company while they play Christopher Cross songs on repeat.

-Sit through an elementary school production of Macbeth.

-Run into someone I haven’t seen in a while on a bad hair day...and also I'm naked.

-Have Grant be sick.

That last one sounds mean.  But it’s not like I WANT Grant to be sick…I would just RATHER him be sick.

Sick Grant sounds like this: “Mom, I’m sick.”

Sick Carter sounds like this: “I AM SICK! Did everyone hear me?  In case you didn’t hear me I’m going to whine and complain and be miserable all day so that you’re aware of just how sick I am.  There is no one on earth who has ever been sicker than me.  Ever.  And I need stuff from you.  I need you to constantly bring me things like blankets…no not THAT blanket…another blanket…ok, actually fine, bring that first blanket back…”

Dear Future Daughter in Law, Oh my God I am so sorry!  Please do not kick him out and send him back to me the first time he gets a cold.  Cause you’re gonna want to.

This week Carter had swimmer’s ear.  He woke up the other day and his ear hurt.  Wanna know how I know his ear hurt?  Well, the ear-piercing, glass-shattering scream was my first hint.  Followed every five minutes by another, louder, scream.  Like he was thinking maybe I missed the first one and he should step up his game.

Hey, Cart?  Got the memo.  Thanks.

So I called the doctor.  They prescribed drops.  But then all of a sudden he was better and not screaming so without the constant reminder of his distress I maaaaay have forgotten to put the drops in…for two straight days.

Cut to today.  It’s been two full days since I heard any word about ear pain.  All of a sudden the screaming starts up again.  But instead of intermittent screaming, it’s unbelievable incredibly, remarkably loud continuous screaming. 

And isn’t that the best kind?

So I had to take him to the doctors.  He screamed the whole way there. 

“STOP GOING OVER BUMPS! The bumps are HURTING MY EAR!”

After that ride I had some ear pain myself. 

So we saw the doctor.  His ear was inflamed and needed an antibiotic.  And as she was listening to his chest she added “Um…did you know that he’s wheezing…badly?”

Actually I did not know that.  Let me get this straight…he has an ear infection probably because I didn’t do the damn drops in the first place and he also can’t breathe which I apparently didn’t notice. Move aside Octo-Mom, there’s a new ‘Mother of the Year’ in town! Sure you have too many kids, but can they all BREATHE PROPERLY??  Ha! Gotcha there sister!

At this point I looked at his pediatrician:

Me: “Oh my GOD!  I’m the worst mother ever!”

Her: “No! No you’re not.”

Carter: “YES! She is!”

Well there you have it.  Guess he would know.  So am I not allowed to bitch about how obnoxious Carter is when he's sick if I'm the one who caused it?  Cause I gotta be honest...I'm still gonna.

A Lesson on Mortality

My kids are always putting stupid things in their mouths.  I don’t know why.  Just to be stupid I guess.  I’ve warned them a million times that if they put things in their mouths they’re gonna choke and die.  Ok, maybe not the most motherly way I could put it but, I mean, it’s me…what did you expect?

This morning Carter stupidly had a tire from one of his trucks in his mouth.  So I gave him the standard warning about choking and dying but didn’t get much of a response. 

Then I got to thinking…do they even know what dying means?  It’s kind of an abstract concept for a 3 and 4 year old.  Maybe they continue to not care about choking and dying because they don’t UNDERSTAND choking and dying.  I decided to explain it further:

Me: “Do you even know what dying means?”

Carter: “It comes after you choke.”

See, I say that phrase a lot.

Me: “Yeah but what it really means is that if you die you won’t be able to see anyone ever again.  Not mommy or daddy or any of your friends…nobody.  You’ll be all alone.”

Carter: “Where will I be?”

Me: “They put you in a box in the gr….”

Ok, perhaps that approach is a little much.  I decided to go in a different direction instead.

Me: “You go live in the sky with God. And all you get to do is sit on a cloud all day and do nothing. And no one is with you.”

Carter: “Is God there?”

Me: “Yeah but he’s boring.”

I’m sure that’s gonna come back to bite me the next time I try to take him to church.  But we all know I’m not the best at describing religious stuff.  Remember when I tried to teach Carter about Easter?  http://www.thingscartersays.blogspot.com/2013/03/the-story-of-easter.html

Carter: “Where does God sleep.”

Me: “In the clouds.”

Carter: “What about when there’s lightning?”

Me: “You’re missing the point. When you die you go away and you can’t see anybody ever again and it’s awful.”

Carter: “Nana will find me.  She knows where God is.”

You’re a stubborn little shit, ya know that? 

He then proceeded to come up with contingency plans for if he got stuck on the cloud alone.  So far it looks like he's either going to just jump off the cloud and come back down or he’s going to ask a Superhero to come get him. 

Now, as I’m sitting there trying to decide what my next move in this great debate will be Grant pipes in with:

“What kind of box do they put you in?”

Oh, you heard that huh?  Let me know how those nightmares go.

Me: “Forget dying, choking isn’t much fun either.  The tire gets stuck in your throat and then you can’t breathe…and then you fall over…and then you die.”

And we’re back to the dying.

Carter: “I’ll just breathe out my nose then. And what if you die and you're already laying down? Do you still fall over?”

Hmmm, let me think of another way to put this…DON’T PUT THINGS IN YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!

Me: “Just don’t put things in your mouth.  Can you just trust me on this one?”

Carter: “Well, Mama, I can’t trust you cause I’ve never seen any of this happen.”

Is anyone still curious about the origins of my extreme wine consumption? Anyone?