Writing makes me feel as if I am not alone in this journey. Three kids (four if you count the spouse, sorry Honey...), two dogs, a full-time job, and no family in town... need I say more? There are times I feel like running outside and screaming at the top of my lungs,"Can I get a break for crying out loud?!?!?", at which point my neighbors would shake their heads and think to themselves,"There she goes again." Rather than torment the neighborhood with my outbursts, I write.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
These are a few of my least favorite things...
It has been awhile since I have had some time to sit and write- mostly because all of my free time is spent sweeping up pine needles from the Christmas tree (I miss our fake one) and rehanging the ornaments that Newman, our dog, knocks off with his tail every time he runs to the door to greet someone. I have also been spending more time attached to my "bovine-like machine" and have almost enough milk for Silas to make it through his first full day without me when I return to work. That is actually a proud accomplishment. Few things, other than the actual nursing and benefits itself, make nursing moms proud like seeing a nice, full container of expressed milk. As the time goes on, the amount drops and you feel as if somehow it's your fault and it takes you back to your newborn baby days: am I drinking enough water? Is it something I am eating or not eating? Is he getting enough to eat? Should I start with formula? I remember being a new parent and reading through every baby book I could get my hands on, desperately hoping that my ignorance wouldn't permanently mess up my child for life or have some grave consequences down the road. Being a parent sure makes you paranoid. I don't look at people the same way anymore. Strangers try to chit-chat with my kids and the first thought that runs through my head is, "are they going to follow me out to the parking lot and snatch my kids?" I've told Ella that if anyone ever grabs her that she is to do everything we tell her not to do: kick, bite, scratch and scream at the top of her lungs, "I am being kidnapped!" Yes, I am paranoid. I practice asking her questions like,"If a stranger pulls up with truck full of candy and asks you to hop in and pick one, what do you say?" Fortunately, she always knows what to say:). Thank godness of the Safe Touch Program. Ella has started to quiz Hanna too- "Hanna, what do you do if..." (Hanna responds) "Good job, Hanna!" As awful as it sounds, I think if anyone took Hanna, they'd return her promptly with a sign that says, "No, thanks!" OK, yes, that sounds harsh, and I will preface this by saying I love the child to bits. In fact, she has a sensitive side that is beyond belief. I cut my finger the other day and she was so concerned- she followed me upstairs, watched me dress my wound, kissed it better, and asked me several times that day if I was okay and if my booboo was better. Ella didn't even flinch from her activity, and Silas slept through the entire incident. She is a snuggle bug and loves to just be close to us. However, the kid has a stinker side (as shown in our Christmas picture)- she has an insane amount of energy and has no idea what an inside voice sounds like. I was doing laundry in the basement yesterday as she was running around upstairs. I found myself wondering if she was somehow part buffalo? She is physically incapable of making it through a half an hour tv show, but could bounce endlessly on anything. Whatever happened to Pogo Balls? I remember having one when I was a kid- it had a blue top and bottom and the part your feet went on was bright pink. I have fond memories of bouncing around the driveway on it and I was so sad when the bottom bounced over something and got punctured. I also miss Hyper Color. Not sure why that ever went out of style. In my mind, it was pure genius. Perhaps someone realized that the chemicals were causing strange skin issues? Other things: leg warmers, fluorescent colored clothing, big bows in the hair, hair-sprayed bangs that stood a mile high, french rolled jeans, these are a few of my least favorite things... and I will be thrilled if I never see them again in my life time (notice that stirrups were not on the list for the sake of not offending anyone). Barney is also on my list, but unfortunately, I am not getting away from him anytime soon. When my nephew (who is now 16) was a toddler, he used to have trouble sleeping and would wake up at odd hours of the night terrified. He had this huge Barney poster in his room and I remember telling my sister that I thought Barney was the devil in disguise and that was probably the root of Jordan's night-wakings. Seems reasonable to me, though now that I've had a couple of kids, I may adjust my theory slightly to include other possibilities (though really, I am convinced it was Barney). For now though, the "clean-up" song gets the job done and I will take it. No Barney posters for us though. Ever.