Unexpected and Strange or Rabies and Wet Dreams

The best part about parenting is that you absolutely have no idea what will happen next. I feel bad for all of those parents who have those laid out birth plans that actually were executed. Didn’t you know that the birth process is our initiation into the world of the Unexpected and Strange? That’s why babies are born early and late, why we have emergency C-sections and why you always get the doctor you’ve never met hanging out to see your lady parts do acrobatics while they are delivering your bundle of joy. If you didn’t catch the clue that life will always be Unexpected and Strange from delivery, then babies continue the hazing by not latching on if you are trying to breast feed, being allergic to the formula you bought in advance (because you are always Prepared dammit!), and by peeing all over the going-home-from-the-hospital outfit you bought so that you have to use some old hospital onesie instead (true story.) If our love bundles have done their job well, we leave the hospital as very different people who realize life will never be the same again.

If you are like me, this was a terribly hard transition. I am Type A(+) and am overly organized. I have been known to have meals planned out two weeks in advance, I book flights 8 months before a trip and can’t believe it when my flights change, and will discuss weekend plans with my husband, only for him to realize I’m talking three weeks out. Needless to say, I don’t do spontaneous well. So when my wonderful first born was two weeks early, I was in denial that I’d had a baby until his actual due date had passed. Can we say Post-Partum? This was my first clue that life would always be Unexpected and Strange.

Now we are all accustomed to the last minute projects that come home from school, the birthday party invitations that arrive less than a week in advance, and when the stomach flu strikes. After a while, this becomes the norm in your house. We can roll with the punches with the best of them. And that’s when we get cocky. “We’ve got this parenting thing down! I am a seasoned veteran.” Heck, throw in a constipated dog – we are still cool under pressure!

That’s why when the life gets truly Unexpected and Strange, it warrants a moment of pause and respect. After 11 years of parenting, my husband and I were getting complacent. We thought we’d seen everything. We’ve handled food allergies and moody hormones, jeans that overnight turn 2 inches too short and expired medicines that you replace at 2:30 a.m., projectile vomiting and hornet attacks. So when our 5 year old came home and announced he’d been bit by a wild hamster, we looked at each other and knew what to do – assume he’s lying. But no, there was an incident report documenting the attack and a band-aid as proof. No problem – we are still calm, in fact laughing. Wild hamsters! Of course. Naturally we have other places to be and things to do that night, namely our older son’s first middle school open house. Lockers need to be “organized” and class schedules need to be mapped. And we can’t miss The Parent Meeting at the end. And as soon as it was over, we had to zip to soccer practice. But we are used to this type of schedule and weren’t sweating it.

But still, wild hamsters are nothing to be laughed at (well, they totally are, but I digress.) Due diligence calls for me to phone the pediatrician and make sure we just need some antibiotic cream and a lecture about keeping our kids away from wild animals. Blah blah blah. Until the nurse says you need to go to the ER for observation for rabies. Say what? Shit just got real. Hello Unexpected and Strange. Frickin’ hamsters!

We know the drill. Divide and conquer is the only way to react aka survive. Dad gets the ER visit while I do the middle school shuffle, completely distracted by the fact my youngest son is Old Yeller. Didn’t they put that dog down in the end? But please, let me focus on how middle school is a journey, a story, a…what the heck, I wasn’t listening until I received the text that we were free and clear of rabies. Phew, glad that moment of crazy is over! Much happier, I reengage and run my new middle schooler to soccer practice and come home. Home sweet home. Time to relax.

But then I go into the oldest’s room to gather his clothes from his hamper and see a strange sight on the floor. His sheets. Wait! Shit had already gotten real once – I cannot deal with more Unexpected and Strange! He’s 11, he’s been moody, he’s getting close to puberty. Holy crap, it can only be a wet dream! Can. Not. Deal. I frantically text his dad – the only explanation for him to strip his sheets is because they are dirty and the only reason they can be dirty is because he is getting to that dreaded age. Girl moms, you get that first period.* Us boy moms have to have the wet dream, which I want to say is way grosser because Tampax doesn’t make anything for that. Rabies and wet dreams in one night? I have hit the motherload of Unexpected and Strange. I am having a quick word with a higher power that doesn’t mind explicit language and my husband promises to have a word with the oldest son when he picks him up from soccer. I impatiently wait for answers from both. 

Eventually everyone is home. I tentatively ask my sweaty 11 year old why his sheets are on the floor, mentally bracing for yet another sex talk. He looks at me and says, “You told me to strip my sheets – that you were going to wash the sheets today.” Now, it is entirely believable that I might have said these words and completely don’t remember it. I am getting old. But I think it is easier to believe that my oldest had a wet dream than to believe he actually listened to me. Now that is truly Unexpected and Strange. 

All in all the night ended without rabies or wet dreams – what a relief on all accounts! And knowing my babies, I’m sure I’ll be having these concerns again for both of them. Next time I will be prepared though and life will have to try a little harder to be Unexpected and Strange. Not that I’m daring it! I’m good. Cockiness is over! I’ve been humbled. 

*Girl moms, you so have to watch this. Funniest thing I have ever seen. This is my gift to you:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NEcZmT0fiNM

Summer Lovin' Had Me a Blast or Hold the Sunscreen

It is the last day of summer – well the last day of summer break. I don’t think anyone is excited to go back, which is funny because I never left – I worked all summer long. But I digress….the KIDS are going back and we all know, that’s really all that matters because they are all little suns that we simply orbit, tending to every need and making sure there’s always a clean swimsuit available. But I won’t dispute that there really is something about summer break that feels magical. There is a certain attitude of laissez faire – where late nights watching fireflies and movies and eating junk food is acceptable. It’s a 3 month long vacation mentality and it is coming to a close. Sigh.

Or is it? Do we really have to give up our summer attitude? What if we treat every day like summer – with that sense of fun and excitement? Do we have to give up impromptu trips to the park and picnics because we have to be in school all day? Heck, I was at work all day and still celebrated summer.  I feel like the Grinch when he realizes that Christmas isn’t about the wrappings and presents but about the feeling you have in your heart. My summer heart just grew three sizes. Now I’m not talking about going all Pintrest on you or skipping Halloween or Thanksgiving (I am talking about skipping May Day though – seriously. That day is crap.) But maybe instead of acting all “homework and busy schedules” we start looking for those pockets of time for fun. Maybe you already do this. And if so, I tip my cute summer hat to you and say “Good for you – you should have blogged about this sooner!”

Now I’m not telling you to go crazy and not make up those meals in advance (it’s the only way to survive the jungle that is sports/music/homework/friends) or ignore the spelling words. But this year while I’m juggling how much homework there is, getting to sports practice, and washing uniforms in time, I’m going to try to keep the summer spirit in my heart. I’m going to try to stop and enjoy the small moments and have spontaneous unstructured fun when we’ve got a chance. 

Don’t get me wrong – I love fall. I really do and my Type A personality thrives on crazy – honestly, unstructured time makes me a bit tweaky. I want to know what homework is due, I love watching all the sports, I enjoy having a set schedule that by the end of the day makes me feel accomplished for managing. So a summer attitude is really a challenge for me – even in the summer. It requires me to look for that carefree moment that I usually try to avoid, to not constantly have a set serious agenda for every day. I’m going to admit, I did keep a list of fun things we could do so I had something to fall back on if we had a free moment. But they were fun things like farmer’s markets, parks, events. So I’m going to make one for the fall so I can remember to sneak in the fun stuff with the work. Who said summer ends in August? It’s only begun.

New School Year's Mom Resolutions 2015

 Ah, another summer comes to an end and we find ourselves about to embark on a year full of promise – promise of yet another insane schedule of sports practices, homework, school drama, school lunches and extra laundry. It’s almost like a new year – the school year. And nothing kicks off a new year like resolutions. So here are my New School Year’s Mom Resolutions for 2015!

New School Year’s Mom Resolutions 2015

1. I will only serve chicken nuggets and mac and cheese once a week. I know this is an awesome meal for you. It feels like an awesome meal for me too because I have to use a stove top AND an oven to make it, which means I’m practically Julia Childs. But I am pretty sure that your pediatrician would frown if he found out this made the menu more than once a week. Unless dad and I are going on a date because then this falls under the “Babysitter Dinner” category and doesn’t actually count.

2. I will leave cutesie notes in your school lunch only a few times a semester. Look, I feel like a Pinterest mom when I do this and that feels good to me. Parents magazine actually writes whole articles about the school lunch note! But while my kindergartener will find this cool, my middle schooler will find this mortifying. Bear with me – there are times throughout my day that I just want to give you a hug and this is the only way I can sort of do that. And I know that my older son will love the note secretly, but will hide it under his bag of chips. (Yes there is a bag of chips in the lunch  - don’t judge!) Which brings us to number 3…

3. All school lunches will only have a bag of chips OR a dessert, but not both. I really don’t need to hear it from Facebook, Parents magazine, any and all parenting articles and my pediatrician that you need to eat healthier. I know. I also know that the crunch of a carrot is simply not as satisfying as a chip nor is fruit truly nature’s dessert. In fact, my personal philosophy is that if dessert has fruit in it, then it is considered a fruit group, not dessert and you are justified to grab chocolate as soon as you can. (But what about banana splits you ask? That sounds like fruit covered in milk to me! Help yourself to a piece of chocolate cake…after the banana split. You deserve it for eating so well!) BUT I love you and do want you to be healthy while wanting to be a somewhat of a cool mom so I’ll make a concession. Dessert or chips but not both. Unless dad makes the lunch because then we all know it’s a free for all.

4. I will not to yell at you for not getting out of bed on time more than twice a week. I’m going to try to be zen mom while also knowing this isn’t my natural steady state. So offering three days a week of being the mom who gently gets you dressed and eating breakfast on a schedule seems like a stretch goal to me, but I’m going to shoot for the stars this year. Three days. That’s what you are getting. I’d suggest you try moving in the mornings so that we can all see this one through.

5. This year I am straddling a kindergartener and a sixth grader. Those are opposite sides of the spectrum for moms. I will try my best to remember my audience based on the child. For example, both boys playing football this year. I will do my best to keep my overly exuberant cheering to a dull roar during the kindergartener’s flag football games while coming decked out in school spirit for my sixth grader’s tackle football games. In my defense, I used to be an aerobics instructor and part of the gig was cheerfully yelling at people to MOVE! I really can’t help it…

I was going to keep going but who am I kidding. This is a gargantuan list as it is. I was feeling pretty confident in goals 1-3 but I think goal 4 is a deal breaker and I’ve failed at number 5 in the past. But this is a new year right? That’s what resolutions are all about!

And now for a resolution to all my mom friends out there: Every time I do something AMAZING, like make a bunch of food from scratch all in one day and freeze it because I am so organized it’s hateful or cut my kiddo’s lunch sandwich into fun shapes, I promise not to post it on Facebook. Well, not EVERY time. I need to brag a little but I will save it for the times I am feeling like a failure in other areas or have done something so truly above and beyond, angels are singing (like the Moose’s birthday cake I made – seriously, did you see it?) I ask that you make the same resolution. And if you are on board, I will know that when you post that you made your kid’s Halloween costume by hand and it is unbelievable, you really truly need a pat on the back because you are feeling low, not because you are gloating at how you are a Pinterest mom. (Save the gloating for Pinterest.) I’ll be under the assumption from here on that you are amazing even if you yelled at the kids to gettheheckoutofbedalready AND served chicken nuggets for dinner that night. We are all in this together.


P.S.  I never did find the elusive orange plastic folder that was on the school supply list. The secret is out: It does not exist. Suggested teacher resolution for next year? Only request school supply items that can be found in one store location.

The Crappy Soccer Mom or Hypocritical Me

For years I’ve been reading the blogs and articles about how parents should act during kids’ sports. We should always be supportive. We shouldn’t yell or get frustrated. We should make sports fun, not work. At the younger ages, we don’t keep score because sports aren’t about winning. And I’ve always nodded along, agreeing and of course pointing fingers at those parents that get uptight and scream at their kids during games. Wow, they are crappy parents! Little did I know that I was turning into one of them.

To my defense, this isn’t how I started. I was very granola about sports when The Moose first started playing. “It’s not about winning or losing; it’s about having fun!” It turns out that this is an easy attitude to have when your child is athletic. And let’s be honest, winning is more fun than losing. And if kids are supposed to be able to count to a hundred before they go to kindergarten, then you can sure as heck bet that they now how to keep score no matter how much you tell them that points don’t matter.

For the past eight years I’ve watched my oldest play his heart out on every field and court. And it’s been a blast – even in intense games where I’m biting my nails, I’ve been having fun. If he lost, I knew that he had tried his hardest and those Full House moments of “What matters most is that you left it all on the court” were easily delivered and truthfully meant. Now I’ve not been the perfect parent. I’ve had moments where I criticized too much and learned my lesson of when to back off and when to wait to give feedback. But I felt like I had this sport-parent role down pretty solid.

Then along came The Rock. While highly competitive, he is also eclectic. His interests range from music to science to sports. He wants to be just like his big brother (on good days) and play sports too. Or so he says. I’m beginning to suspect he just wants the uniform…I should have known what was to happen next when he seemed more overly concerned about putting embellishments on his cleats than about kicking around the ball.

As I did with The Moose, I volunteered to coach The Rock with his U6 soccer team. I’m trying my best to be the fun coach, putting in lots of games at practice and openly admitting that I know very little about soccer (as The Moose can attest.) Practices are a bit challenging with The Rock as he and I have a very special relationship called “See How Much We Can Push Each Other’s Buttons in the Name of Love.” But otherwise, I am surviving. Until I had to coach our first game.

As I said earlier, kids can count. And no matter what you say, they are keeping score. And we are getting slaughtered. It’s 10+ to 1 and regardless of what I’m saying, the kids know that we are not tied. As a competitive person, I’ll admit, I’m getting a bit frustrated for the kids. Losing sucks – even “we aren’t keeping score” losing sucks. But they are working hard out there on the field and I’m trying to find positives to keep them going.

Except for one player - The Rock. He’s out there prancing around, half-heartedly following the ball. He’s carrying on conversations with me, the other coach, the players and himself more than he’s playing a soccer game. And all he wants to know is how many more minutes he has to play.

Oh, I was pissed. He TOLD me he wanted to play soccer. He is the reason why I am giving up my Tuesday nights and Saturday mornings. And here he is, asking me what’s for lunch at 10:15 a.m. All I wanted to do was yell at him to run after the goddamn ball and get his shit together! I must admit, it took all of my restraint to not swear on the field.

Then he asked me why I hadn’t high-fived him during the game. And I told him maybe if he’d start playing some soccer, he’d get a high-five. And that was the moment I realized I was one of those shitty parents that becomes overly competitive during sports. Because here’s the truth: It’s easy to be supportive when your kid is good in sports. It is not easy to be supportive when your kid, regardless of his ability, sucks. And I’m not saying The Rock sucks at sports – quite the contrary. He could be very good – he’s definitely got the competitive spirit and he’s got talent…when he wants to show it. And that’s the rub. He just doesn’t want to play competitively – at least not yet. He wants to simply play. And I’m not used to that. I’m used to a kid that comes out of a game sweating, always looking to improve his performance regardless if it was a win or a loss. I’m not used to a kid that wants to make dirt fireworks (I am not making that up – that’s what The Rock told me he was doing as he threw dirt clods in the air during the game.)

I have always appreciated that The Rock marches to his own drummer. He is the kid that will be opening art galleries, making new chemicals in a lab and putting on fashion shows. And this is something I absolutely love about him. But I thought he’d do that while kicking around a soccer ball too. Guess I’m wrong. I realized that maybe some kids just need support because they got out there and played even if it wasn’t their most favorite thing to do. And that deserves cheering too – because doing something you don’t love is just as hard as playing your heart out when you love the sport – in fact, it’s harder because you don’t have that drive that pushes you when you are tired. And I didn’t deliver. I guess we both were screwing up on that soccer field Saturday.

So this week, I’m reforming. I’m still not going to let The Rock wear a bunch of bling to a game but this time he will get a high-five for simply being out there. I know he’s not always going to be a contributing member to his team. And that’s still going to piss me off - I can't lie. But I’m going to remember that he gave soccer a try and that’s going to have to be enough for me. He’s only 5 and that’s too early to predict his future. Who knows, maybe if I play my cards right, he’ll eventually fall in love with a sport and want to give it his all. Or maybe he’ll just start designing soccer shoes and make millions. Either way, I’m going to find my peace with it and cheer him on regardless if I’m at a soccer tournament or sitting by the catwalk.

My 2015 Annual Review for the Job Title: MOM

2015 Annual Review for the Position of MOM

I’d like to start this year’s annual review by thanking you for taking the time out of your day to sit down with me to discuss my performance. By the nature of our relationship, I know that all conversations must usually revolve around your bodily functions, dinosaurs, or what your brother has done to you lately. So I really do appreciate the thought you’ve put into this. Also, thank you for taking into consideration that I didn’t go to school to be Mom; working my way up through the company has been an eventful and educational 11 years. I am grateful for the opportunity to advance in this company.

Before we formally begin my review, I must note that this year’s continuous feedback has been extremely helpful. They always say that an annual review shouldn’t be a surprise. Knowing that you have been dissatisfied with my service and policies during various times of the year provided real-time feedback that I wouldn’t have had otherwise. I always learn something from these conversations. For example, after I threw away the Moose’s math homework by accident, I apologized profusely and announced that I was a “crappy mom.” When the Rock said, “yes, that’s what I always say,” I was able to take that constructive criticism and really work with it. Knowing that status quo is “crappy” has really helped me set some reachable goals, such as being mediocre, unfair and not-sucky.

Ah yes, you’d like to talk about some specific examples of when my work could be improved. Great idea.

Quitting Time aka Bedtime: You are right, I have been knocking off early each day. While I know that the work day should last until you fall soundly asleep, there are times I have a difficult time remaining friendly past 9 p.m. when your bedtime is 8:30 p.m. I know my demeanor deteriorates as the day progresses and after dinner, night time activities, brushing teeth and reading stories, I do sometimes fall short on patience after I’ve told you 8 times to go to bed and stop poking your brother in the eye for God’s sake!  I will work on remaining cheerful from the hours of 4:30 a.m. – 10:30 p.m. You are absolutely correct – 6 hours of rest is plenty. I’ve been lazy.

Refreshments aka Meals: I understand you have been unhappy with your table service lately. I deeply apologize. I felt I was following corporate guidelines by offering a variety of food choices at mealtimes, but I see I have misunderstood the policies. By variety, you meant different kinds of pizza, not different foods themselves. Now your groan over the answer to “what’s for dinner” makes more sense to me. And you have a point – I should always be prepared to answer the question “what’s for dinner?” regardless of time of day or situation. Just pulling into the driveway after a day of work is no excuse for not being able to answer this simple yet critical question.
Oh, and snacks. Yes, I know you are have been dissatisfied with the snack schedule and options. The “cool” snacks have been exhausted by Tuesday afternoon and you are left with crackers, cheese, fruit, veggies and cereal bars as options. I will work more closely with the purchasing department to better plan for our week.

Company Outings: First, I’d like to thank you for giving me the responsibility of planning the company outings. Yes, I know sometimes I do better at this than other times. I will work harder to schedule Skyzone into every weekend – obviously it’s a time management issue on my part. Between basketball tournaments, house showings, birthday parties and general upkeep of the house, I have had a hard time fitting in activities that are clearly detrimental to your well-being. I will adjust my priorities accordingly. Your idea about automatically including a pack of Pokemon cards and a visit to the toy section into every trip to Target will be taken into consideration. Also, I will do a better job of preparing you for the “length of the list” for the grocery store. I understand it would be more convenient for you if I did these things when you were not around or sleeping.

Procurement Procedures: I was pretty sure you were going to bring up last week’s soccer shoe debacle. Again, I was under the impression we were supposed to run a quick ROI before making purchases which is why I declined your request for $40 soccer shoes for your U6 spring soccer season and requested you choose a pair of $27 soccer shoes instead. I now understand that I neglected to take into account that the $40 pair of soccer shoes had a skull on them, which made up for the fact that you would wear them for a total of 16 hours (8 weeks of soccer x (1 hour game + 1 hour weekly practice)). Obviously my math was wrong and didn’t include the part of the equation for the cool factor. While I cannot make up for your broken heart (again, thanks for the real-time feedback!), I did practice drawing skulls for 1 hour so I could add them to your soccer shoes personally. I know it does not adequately make up for my misjudgment but I have learned a valuable lesson. I have learned how to draw skulls.

I appreciate that you have taken it upon yourself to set my goals for the next year.

1. Reply to the words “Hey Mom” the first time, regardless of what other activities I am undertaking.
a. Stretch goal: Reply to multiple requests of “Hey Mom” simultaneously.

2. Purchase candy every time you must attend the dreaded grocery store trip.
a. Stretch goal: Purchase candy for you every time I go to the grocery store or really anywhere with candy whether you are there or not.

3. Update our bedtime routine to include a floating hour, endless stories and less hygiene.
a. Stretch goal: Lay in bed with you until you fall asleep at 10 p.m. and THEN make your lunch, clean up the house, etc. Obviously these personal agenda items should not take place during “your time.”

4. Stop “breaking your heart” every day with unjust policies.
a. Stretch goal: Anticipate said “heart breaking” activities before they happen.

I believe my merit raise of 2 less brotherly fights/day is more than generous. I would have been happy with just 1 less brotherly fight/day. I will work hard to earn that raise. I look forward to your continuous efforts to make me an acceptable mom and next year’s annual review.

No Crying Over Spilled Sauce or It Takes a Lot to Make Me Blush

All of us are born with a sense of wanting to preserve our dignity. Throughout middle school and high school we try to act like and look like our friends, all in the attempt to not be embarrassed and ridiculed. In college we try to be different because in being unique, we are still conforming to a norm – but this one means that to be the same, we must be different. Just this week a college student explained to me that being called “basic” is a major insult – no one wants to be average. I thanked her for keeping me cool by updating my slang and smiled inwardly because not being “basic” is actually the same thing as trying to fit in and be normal.

So throughout most of our early years we strive to avoid publicly shaming ourselves. And then we have children. I had no idea that what would have embarrassed me in my early 20’s wouldn’t even register on my Richter scale now. Tripping and falling in public? Who cares! Walking around with a huge hole in my pants? Hey at least I’m wearing pants!

I’m not sure when we transition to being immune to humiliation. I think our adjustment starts when our sweet babies are born. Maybe it’s when we are delivering our babies and we have people all around our woo-hoos poking and prodding in there. Just think, when we were 21, we really tried not flashing our panties* while we were a little too drunk at that skeezy bar. And now people are huddled around that area quite matter-of-factly. And once we have that first baby, we’ve got lactation nurses in the hospital, grabbing our boobs trying to shove our nipples in just the right position. “Um, hey lady, my main goal for the past 27 years was to make it so that my nipple wasn’t out for the world to see. But hey, you just keep on going since you seem on a mission and my baby is screaming. Yes, I’m totally relaxing so I can ‘let down.’” And have you seen what nursing bras look like? That is a humiliation in and of itself.

As our babies grow, they strengthen our immunity to embarrassment. It’s like they are training us for a crazy adventure race. Once at a wedding reception (where we were sitting right by the buffet table) the Moose vomited, Exorcist style, all over me. Like he stood up, looked at me and opened his mouth and everything he’d ever consumed landed in my lap. To this day, I think he puked so hard that it went through me because when I stood up, despite being puked on in my front, I had puke on my back and butt. My neighbor apologetically wiped the back of my pants so I could careful walk out of the reception, with my drenched clothes hanging on me, my husband gagging at the smell, and the Moose skipping along asking when we were going to have dinner. At that stage of motherhood, I still felt embarrassed. Little did I know I was just training for that portion of the race where you crawl through the mud. We haven’t even started getting ready for the part where you run through the electric wires.

At that point I didn’t realize how many times I’d be puked on or pooped on yet. Or how babies only blow out their diapers in Target or restaurants. Or how you can be sitting in church and notice that your toddler is sticking his hand down your shirt. Dealing with these minor indignities prepares us for a day of spectacular portions.

It takes a lot to make me embarrassed now. Two weeks ago I was at the grocery store checking out and managed to drop a glass jar of spaghetti sauce on the ground. Of course it shattered, not only leaving glass fragments but spaghetti sauce EVERYWHERE. Clean up in aisle 10…literally. Moose was mortified. The Rock was bemused. And I looked down and thought, “So do I just keep putting stuff on the conveyor belt?” I did and we checked out minus one jar of spaghetti sauce. My lesson? Maybe I should start buying the cheaper sauce that comes in cans instead?

So I was feeling pretty invincible when it came to public spectacles. Oh friends, you and I both know that when you get cocky about life, you will get it shoved right back in your face. Just this week I was fortunate enough to increase my training level for my tolerance of embarrassing moments.

We were house hunting and visited a house that the owner was showing himself. We are looking around, making that friendly small talk that you have to make because you are in an awkward situation of judging someone’s home while they are there watching you. That’s when the Rock took off to go to the bathroom. “Oh, we are so sorry,” we said, and to be honest, it really wasn’t that awful. Rock needed to pee, no biggie. We continue looking around the house. Then I notice that the Rock is nowhere to be found. Where did this kid go? Was he climbing on the beds? Because he had just gotten a lecture about that at the other house we looked at! Oh but no, it was so much better (or worse depending on how you look at it.)There, with the door wide open, is my baby, sitting on the potty. Friends, it is one thing to pee in someone’s house. It is another thing to poop in someone’s house, especially a stranger’s. And I thought, “Yes, this is the tipping point. THIS is embarrassing.” Now we are apologizing profusely and really meaning it this time. Peter runs in to help clean Rocco up and I am still trying to smooth over this amazing moment in parenthood. The guy, who looks just as embarrassed as we do, laughs it off but we all know, we have made a name for ourselves. “Hey guys, you think selling your home is tough? Try having a preschooler crap in your bathroom!” It’s like we were homeless and looking for a place to tidy up.

Well played Rock. I now have a new threshold for being embarrassed. My new benchmark for awkwardness is now, well, is my son pooping in a stranger’s house we are considering buying? No? Then who cares! I’m sure this isn’t the worst thing that will happen. And I am depending on other parents like you to look at me and think, “Hey, no judging here! My kid doesn’t shut the door when he poops either!” I promise to be just as gentle minded when your kid does something even more impressive. And just remember as we dodge the mudpits and electric wires of parenthood, we are simply making special memories that will all come to light at their senior parties. Paybacks are hell.  

*If you have an issue with the word “panties” please read one of my prior blogs and get over it.

From Poop Schedules to College Or I Will Leave You Alone as Long as I Can Call You Whenever I Want

Dear Moose,

We are in a transition period. I know that you are growing up. Soon you will be eleven and in middle school. And because I am dramatic, I recognize that this means you are practically in college. Knowing that time is of the essence, I am already working on letting go, even if you can’t tell. I refuse to become a helicopter parent. I see it too much and it is not someone I want to become. But….it turns out, this is quite hard.

You see, I have been watching your every movement like a stalker since I found out I was pregnant. We were instructed to count your kicks every hour in utero. But micromanaging did not stop once you were born. I received weekly updates from overly helpful websites telling me exactly what developmental delays I should be on the lookout for. Your every move has been scrutinized and you didn’t even know it! Even in daycare, I would receive a daily sheet telling me what you ate, how much you ate, when you ate, when you slept, how many wet diapers you had and when you pooped. Little did you know that we have been tracking everything you do since you were born!

Of course starting kindergarten was quite the change because it turns out, kindergarten teachers don’t watch how much you eat or how many times a day you go to the bathroom. How am I supposed to know if you are safe and healthy if I don’t know these intimate details about you?! I’m just supposed to expect you to tell me? But when I asked you what was for lunch, you couldn’t remember. What? Argh! Did you eat? Are you wasting away? Naturally kindergarten was the first step as it forced me to let go a bit and rely on you to know how to take care of yourself when it came to your basic needs. I’d like to think you are fully capable of taking care of the base needs now, yet sometimes I find I still have to tell you that you need to wear shoes. But I digress…

Now you are getting to the age where you can be dropped off at places without me. Just this weekend I let you watch your friends play basketball and I wasn’t there. I know that very responsible parents that I trust were around. But while I may have seemed cool and collected on the surface, I was ready to text you every 5 minutes to make sure no one had drugged you in the bathroom and taken you across state lines. Obviously I made you take your phone. I can track you with it, which you may not know. Fun fact, did you know I literally hyperventilated the first time I let you use a public restroom on your own? I still actually watch the bathroom door waiting for you to reemerge. Sorry!

These are baby steps for me. Soon you will be driving. Wait, no you won’t. I can’t actually go there mentally so I’m going to deny that you will have the capability of being able to transport yourself to different location and come home on your own accord. Let’s skip over driving. Soon you will be going to college. I think you should go wherever you want, even if it is far far away. But you need to understand that weird shit happens in college. Although all of my weird stuff was from guys, I’m sure girls are just as able to stalk you, leave strange notes on your door and steal your underwear as well. And I won’t be there to protect you. I won’t know every detail of your day or even if you went home at night. Oh my gosh, don’t do drugs or smoke and always use a condom! If those are the only things you remember from your upbringing, I am happy. I’m going to breathe through this panic attack I’m having at the thought of college.

I know you will need to branch out. You will need to make your own decisions. I will not raise a son who cannot think on his own. Your wife would hate me. And I would hate me too. You have to be independent. And I am learning that this is harder on me than it will be on you. So I’m going to keep trying to let things go, because soon I’ll have no choice. You’ll be a man and your decisions will bear consequences only you can accept, no matter how much I want to take care of you. I’ll transition from someone who takes care of you to someone who supports you. There is a difference. And I think that’s what a good mom does – she finds that balance.

So here’s to the next stage in life. I trust that you are a smart kid and you’ll make the right decisions. And when you don’t, I’ll be there to help you out. And for goodness sake, remember to take your phone. I’m not cutting the cord entirely.

Love,

Mom