Tuesday, April 30, 2013

My Four Golden Rules (Because One Is Not Enough and Five Is Too Many)

Rocking the Moose when he was three months old, I would coo at him and gaze into his eyes. I would tell him how smart and funny he is, how perfect he is, and how he should always wear condoms. I believed it was never too early to lay the right foundation of my expectations for him.

After I had the Moose, I gave considerable thought to what I call My Golden Rules. If my boys follow these four simple rules, they really should avoid most of life's disasters. Most other trouble they get into pales in comparison to the trouble they will get into if they break one of these rules. I accept that my kiddos will screw up and screw up often. And I will love them through it. All I ask is that they follow these four simple rules and I promise to forgive them for pretty much everything else.

1. No Smoking: Seriously, if I catch one of my boys with a cigarette (or chewing tobacco) in their mouth, I will slap it right out, even if they are thirty years old. Sure sure, you might argue that they can make their own choices when they are an adult. No, I say, not if they are fucking up. And smoking will fuck them up. Do you know how much prenatal care I followed to have healthy babies? I gave up lunch meat BEFORE I got pregnant, in the anticipation of GETTING pregnant. I gave up caffeine, which is my life blood, for them both for two years - one during each of their pregnancies and one for the year I nursed them - that's four years total! And let's not even get into the permanent damage they did to my boobs during the breast feeding. Hell if I'm going to let them mess up their lungs after all I did to give them healthy ones in the first place.

2. No Drugs/Drinking: Okay, part of this is unrealistic, I know. The drugs part, I'm holding strong. I've gotten through life this far without doing drugs, and I expect the same from them. Nothing good comes from doing drugs. They are addicting, damaging, ruin your career/life, and can kill you. I'm done sounding like the Reagan Administration. Just don't do drugs. As for the drinking, just be responsible. Get a DD. Call me if you mess up. Don't drive drunk. Nuff said.

3. Always Respect Women: I just won't tolerate disrespecting women, and this includes their children. When I thought up these rules, I thought "what offenses could I just not forgive if my children committed them?" And rape or any form of sexual, physical, domestic abuse comes to mind. I just won't have it. So don't do it. Respect any woman in your life, including teachers, parents, girlfriends, coworkers, wives. By respecting women, you in turn respect their children because any woman can tell you that their children are simply an extension of themselves. If I hear of you disrespecting women, I will come down on you like a fury and you will remember that Mom is the Boss. Again, your age is meaningless. I will always be your mom and if you are really fucking up, I will set you straight.

4. Practice Safe Sex: There are too many consequences that come from ignoring this rule. For God's sake and mine, wear a condom! I rocked my boys to sleep reviewing my Golden Rules, including this one. I'm hoping it sticks a little subconsciously because we have a few years before we can have the sex talk and I really need them to remember this rule. STDs and babies last forever. They only need a condom for 20 minutes. I promise to grow a pair and teach them all about condoms when they get a little older if they promise to follow rule number four. And I don't care if she's on the pill. HIV could care less too. And this one ties nicely into Rule Number Three!

So that sums up my main rules. Everything else is really minor compared to these Golden Four. I've had them in place for almost 9 years now and haven't seen any circumstances that would cause me to change them. I can handle swearing, slamming doors, and rolling eyes (personally guilty of all three!) I will yell at them and send them to their rooms, but I will know, those offenses aren't deal breakers. Of course I have created other rules over the years, but they are really level two rules, like "Never wear those awful school color overalls, even if you are drunk and tailgating, because I will take a pair of scissors and cut them off - walking around in your boxers is less embarrassing than those overalls." But the overalls do not have life changing consequences - they just make you look like an idiot and would probably eliminate the need for Rule Number Four. The Golden Four can change your world if you don't follow them. As a mom, I can only do so much to guide my boys and so far, I've noticed that boys can only remember about 4 things at a time (note - if the topic is Skylanders or Pokemon, the memory becomes infinite). Feel free to steal my rules if you want - as you can see, I don't have stealing listed above. I'm hoping the Ten Commandments covers that one.

Monday, April 15, 2013

The Glitter Star Movement or Ladies, How About a Little Love?

Moms, I need your help. I'd like to change Mom-Culture everywhere. I'm tired of happily busting my ass being a mom without any recognition. I want a freaking Glitter* Star.

They say when you deliver, "You don't get a medal regardless of how you deliver your baby." You can go naturally, C-section or with an epidural and no one cares. A healthy baby is our prize. And yes, that is true. But really, I think you need a little love if you went naturally. Why not? Do you know how much it hurts to have a baby?? I don't - I had an epidural and a C-section. But I can IMAGINE how much it hurts and I think that deserves a tiara, or at least a small ribbon on your hospital door. If you told me I'd get a tiara for delivering naturally, I might have considered it. It's all about the proper motivation. If you delivered naturally, you are a freaking Rock Star. I am jealous of your awesomeness, and may make a snide comment about it because I can be petty.

Currently I'm looking ahead at a week that involves 4 sports practices, one soccer game, one religious education class and a scout event. Oh, and the cherry on top is the authentic looking costume I "get" to make for my son's school project (and a poster - don't forget about the poster). This is in addition to the regular things that need to be done like groceries, dinners, laundry, spelling words, scheduling doctors' appointments, working full-time and paying the bills. I woke up on Monday morning and the first thing I thought was "What the fuck! How is this all supposed to get done?" My second thought was "I need coffee." And according to Parents magazine and Redbook, I'm also supposed  to find time to eat 2 nutritious snacks each day (Snickers bars and coffee do not count), exercise, meditate and journal, because by taking care of myself, I will have the energy to find 26 hours in my 24 hour day. If I make it through this week, I deserve a freaking Glittery Star.

Have you noticed that men get verbal Glitter Stars for the smallest of accomplishments? They change A diaper - Glitter Star! They pick the kids up from daycare - Dad of the Year! They take the kids to buy groceries - Mr. Mom! Moms, we do all of these things in one hour after a full day of work. No Glitter Star. Time to change things Ladies! (Disclaimer: My husband is awesome. He gets the kids ready EVERY morning, drops them all off and picks them all up at night. A.MAZING. What he does in one day would likely warrant him 72 Gold Stars by those people who have low expectations for dads. He definitely exceeds these expectations and (guilty admission) I occasionally/often take this for granted.)

Wouldn't it be nice if we could just look at each other, see that worn out look on that Mom's face, and say "Hey Sister - I've been there! Good job!" and put a Glitter Star on her stained shirt? I know I'd feel a little bit better if someone gave me a Glitter Star every once in a while. Sometimes just not screaming at your kids at night deserves a Glitter Star - there's no need to be stingy! I know we are supposed to know that the simple fact that we are moms is reward enough - that we don't need that pat on the back because the sheer fact we are raising amazing children speaks for itself. Well, I say that's crap. Have you read that Sistine Chapel email that says the creators of the Sistine Chapel didn't put their names on it? That the fact that the Sistine Chapel is amazing is all the recognition that they need? Well, I'm willing to bet that after they put in 10 hours building the Chapel that day, they didn't go home and figure out what's for dinner, run someone to soccer practice and cut up felt to make a fringed jacket for their grade-schooler's school project. (Yes, I am hung up on this costume. I will eventually get over this...sometime next year.) And maybe they did think, "Hey, how about a Glitter Star for all that freakin' work!?"

So here's what I'm proposing. All of us start walking around with a few Glitter Stars in our purses. Consider it Adult Fruit Snacks - a simple way to make someone instantly happier. If you can't find Glitter Star stickers, then smelly stickers will work just as well. I seem to remember being really excited about them in first grade. The next time you see a mom that looks like she's had a hell of a day and needs a little pat on the back for successfully (or unsuccessfully) dropping everyone off at the right practice field on time, give her a Glitter Star.  If you'd like to make your own because you want to seem like Martha Stewart or a Pinterest Queen, then please copy, color and cut out the star below. I will be slightly annoyed that you felt the urge to show up the rest of us with your craftiness, but I will forgive you if you pin one of your stars on my shirt. Please ignore it if my shirt is stained. I am still my 3-year old's human napkin. I'm pretty sure your Glitter Star would make up for it. Side note, I'm going to print some off for my mom - I owe her more than a few.


*Side Note: This original post was called the Gold Star Movement until a friend of mine pointed out that a gold star has a negative connotation too. While the Gold Star is the highest level of sticker you can get as a kid, I am an adult and am sensitive to its other meanings too. Hence the name change to Glitter Star.

Saturday, April 6, 2013

The New B-word or I Know You Are and So Am I

Those who  know me know that I am not shy to throw out a few swear words here and there. I've talked in past blogs about my colorful vocabulary and have stopped making apologies about it. But today I'd like to address a new swear word and it's one that I'm going to make a conscious effort to stop using. The B-word. Is this because I feel that the word "bitch" is derogatory? Well, sometimes it's an accurate description. And I much prefer to use it as a verb anyway. I can't give that up. No, the word I'm talking about is BUSY.

I've been giving this quite a bit of thought and have decided that "busy" is the new B-word. We all use it and frankly, it's getting too much play. "How are you?" The reply is always "busy" as if that describes an emotion. It's a cheater's way of getting out of replying to a question. And I am SO guilty of this. Does saying that I'M busy imply that you are not? "Oh, I'm so busy, you know, working full-time, commuting 90 minutes a day, running after the kids, baking from scratch, managing two sports schedules for one kid, volunteering, blah blah blah." Wow. Is anyone else thinking "hey lady, are you just trying to win this conversation or are you actually trying to make me hate you?" I'd venture to say that the B-word leads me to two other B-words - boring and bragging. Enough already! We get it. You are...busy. Snore and please don't call me again.

So I'm going to turn over a new leaf. From here on out, I'm going to do my best to avoid the word "busy." I'm going to acknowledge that we are all in the same boat and that saying we are busy is the same thing as saying "I'm breathing." In the meantime, I'm going to be trying out a list of other adjectives, such as peachy, swell, standing, overwhelmed, bitchin' (a b-word that is not off my list), and hungry. Chances are I am actually hungry.

Who's with me on my new crusade? It's time our children learn a different vocabulary that doesn't include this word, because in reality, busy is the new normal. Get over it, get creative and join me! Unless that is, you are too busy.

Monday, April 1, 2013

A Little Dried Urine Always Brings a Tear to My Eye

I have a confession* to make. I was cleaning out my cabinets in my bathroom when I stumbled across my old pregnancy tests. Not just one. There were 6 old pregnancy tests there, from both the Moose and the Rock. Surely I'm not the only one who saves/collects weird things. There are people out there who save old umbilical cord stumps or bury placentas after they give birth. But seriously, those are bad examples because saving belly button stumps and internal guts is just plain gross and I am nothing like that. Yuck. We are not in the same category. But I sheepishly acknowledge that I am saving sticks that have dried up urine on them.

As I looked at these sticks, I got teary. Not because I was disgusted by my odd collection or the amount of money I spent testing and retesting for the same results, but because I remembered the elation and absolute terror with each first pregnancy test. There is nothing like the heart fluttering joy and the stomach dropping fear of finding out you are pregnant. Those (six) little sticks brought back all those memories and tugged at my internal clock that says "Maybe just one more..."

But there are no more babies in our future. And ironically for the first time ever, I have baby lust. I see a baby on a commercial and I go all gooey. I watch family photos of my babies when they were babies and I start crying. Pete looks at me like I am crazy (and not just because I saved six pregnancy tests) and shakes his head no. No way, no how. Since it would be a little odd for me to get pregnant without his help, it looks like the final answer is no more babies.

To make matters worse, it also occurred to me that I am getting TOO OLD to have babies. This month I am rounding 36, which is on the downward slide to 40. A pregnant 36 year-old? Ancient to the medical community! They would hand me a walker when I came in for appointments. It's funny because I've always been young enough to have kids, until now. Sure, I know of lots of 36 year-olds who have babies, but to be honest, being pregnant in my 20's was way easier than it was in my 30's. This ship has sailed.

So my baby days are over. I will still tear up at Johnson and Johnson commercials. I will still call my babies "babies" and snuggle them even when they push me off. And I will still save those pregnancy tests, even if they have dried urine on them. At least they aren't umbilical cords. (Gross.)

*As a Catholic, we always feel guilty about something and are always making confessions. This is what we do. If you aren't guilty, you aren't Catholic. And now I feel guilty for making jokes about being Catholic. See how easy it is?