So, Samantha has yet to "click" with potty training, although she does refuse to pee in her underwear now, she also refuses to pee in the potty, meaning she holds it all day long until we put a diaper on her which she fills until it bursts, or she pees a little at a time in her pants and then stops herself and yells "I have to go to potty!" We then rush like maniacs to put her on the toilet, and she chickens out and starts saying "all done!" before she even gets on the thing. Thankfully, due to her little leak, she has a little more room to repeat the cycle all again an hour later.
One thing she has completely figured out, however, is that other people expect parents to respond to a kid who has to go potty. Now, when we are at a store or public place that she finds boring, she starts yelling as loud as she can "Mommy! I need to go da bafroom! I've got to poop! Mommy! Da bafroom! PEEASE!"
I'm stuck standing there, whispering to her, "Sam, you do not use the potty, you will go in there, touch a bunch of public toilet seats (giving mommy a sick feeling in her germophobe stomach) and then say you are all done. You are wearing a diaper, and you are not potty trained!"
You should see the looks I get when I have a kid screaming "I need da bafroom! I've got to poop!" and I'm standing there refusing to drop everything and take her repeating, "but you won't use the potty!" I know she has no intention of using the potty, but she loves to explore public bathrooms. She is obsessed with going in the bathrooms at Wal-mart all the more because it is forbidden. I won't even use them, for crying out loud, I'm not going to take my little 2-year-old in there. It's a cesspool.
It's driving me crazy! How is it that she can figure out how to make Mommy look bad in public, and get an evil little kick out of it, but she can not figure out that it's not fun to sit in your own poop and it's better to use the potty!?
I don't even want to train her hard core yet, but I'm going to have to. I wanted to let her lead the way, but she's only using that power to screw with me.
At least if she's in underwear, when she yells "I have go bafroom," I'll have a reason to take her, and the remote possibility she'll actually go.
In the meantime, if you see me go by with a bruise on my forehead, it's only from banging my head against a wall.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
A Letter
Dear Murphy, whoever you are,
Thank you so much for your concerted efforts to make your famous law known to me on several occasions today. I hope you realize your efforts did not go unnoticed--and I was appropriately intimidated. You may note proudly the tears you brought to my eyes at 4:34pm this afternoon, after what was your (approximately) 12th attempt to completely derail my day. I apologize that it took so long for me to crumble, perhaps if I had been more perceptive to the strength of your statute, Murphy, you would not have been forced to hurl your entire arsenal at me in the space of only six hours. I realize my mistake now.
However, for your future information, a phone call or letter is a much better way to announce your intended presence in a person's life. Perhaps if you decided to take this tactic, you would become known for something more positive and welcome than a bitter, broken, muttering of "Murphy's Law!" Perhaps your name would even be uttered in conjunction with markedly less profanity than it currently is worldwide--maybe even no swears (or near swears) at all. Just a thought.
Please enjoy your day. I hope it went better than mine did. Thanks for the memories, and nightmares.
Sincerely,
Carly
Thank you so much for your concerted efforts to make your famous law known to me on several occasions today. I hope you realize your efforts did not go unnoticed--and I was appropriately intimidated. You may note proudly the tears you brought to my eyes at 4:34pm this afternoon, after what was your (approximately) 12th attempt to completely derail my day. I apologize that it took so long for me to crumble, perhaps if I had been more perceptive to the strength of your statute, Murphy, you would not have been forced to hurl your entire arsenal at me in the space of only six hours. I realize my mistake now.
However, for your future information, a phone call or letter is a much better way to announce your intended presence in a person's life. Perhaps if you decided to take this tactic, you would become known for something more positive and welcome than a bitter, broken, muttering of "Murphy's Law!" Perhaps your name would even be uttered in conjunction with markedly less profanity than it currently is worldwide--maybe even no swears (or near swears) at all. Just a thought.
Please enjoy your day. I hope it went better than mine did. Thanks for the memories, and nightmares.
Sincerely,
Carly
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
My Two-Year-Old is Older Than Me!
So, today I realized that my daughter is older than me in a couple of ways. Hopefully it's just for this week, because after a crazy week last week, I have not felt like doing anything since Sunday night. It's all I can do to make myself put on real pants and start the day. I just want to nap and lay on the sofa! I'm hoping this will all blow over in the next day or so when my schedule goes from lazy back to crazy, but I digress. Back to Sam.
First, this morning she asked for "two waffles, peease!" for breakfast (since she was sick yesterday, and she didn't eat lunch or dinner, I'm sure she was starving). When she was done, she very carefully handed me her plastic fork (which I'm pretty sure was only actually used for the first bite), and said "Here you go, Mommy. Put it in da dishwasser!" Hmmm, I had every intention of either 1) leaving it there until I felt like cleaning, or 2) tossing it in the sink. I guess that makes me the kid (or husband *cough cough*) in this scenario? That has been the tip of the "responsible Sam" iceberg today.
Later, I was trying to get myself motivated to get moving, but mostly, I was wandering aimlessly around the kitchen, trying not to mindlessly eat sugar. I didn't really see the point in rushing around getting ready or cleaning, since Sam had a fever last night, I didn't want to take her anywhere today just in case, even though she seems fine. Facing a day of not leaving the house until 6pm is never motivating for me.
Sam came over to me and said "I play in the sambox." For the record, we have a sandbox, but Sam seems to think that because it belongs to her, it is also named after her and calls it her Sambox. It's just too cute to correct. I got her dressed and shoed (I guess if it works for horses...) and opened the back door so she could play (it's literally a foot away from the sliding door so I can see her and the TV from the sofa, which was of course, my plan for the whole day anyway). Sam grabbed my hand and said "Mommy comes too. Get mommy's shoes!" and led me to the shoe basket by the door. When I looked at her to object, she said calmly and not whiny at all, "Mommy come too. Mommy water the garden." It was true, my garden needed watering. Dang it.
An hour or so later, I was back to wandering the kitchen and trying to get motivated. I was whining out loud to Sam that I had to make some cookies for a church activity tonight, but I just didn't feel like doing anything at all--all day long. Why couldn't I make myself do something? Sam hopped up on the couch and turned around to lean on the back of it and look across the kitchen counter at me at almost eye level. Then she put on an excited voice said "Mommy--make some cookie dough, and THEN, drive to da tunnel!!!" Driving through a tunnel is what Sam considers to be the ultimate reward for anything at this time in her life. She asks if we can go through a tunnel anytime we get in the car. The irony here is that we have taken her "true da tunnel" exactly once in her whole life that she remembers. It was on our way to Peoria over a month ago, and apparently has changed her life forever. The fact that she was trying to get me to take her all the way to downtown Phoenix for one three second tunnel ride was not the point. What cracked me up was the way Sam was using all my favorite mom tricks to get me to get off my lazy butt and do stuff. Our roles are totally reversed today, and it seems like she is dragging me along! From the calm statement of "Mommy comes too." that I've used a million times when Sam has no choice but has decided to be difficult "i.e. Nope, you're coming to the store too. Get in the car," to the riduculously overemphasized "THEN" before bribing her with a more fun activity, the kid has gotten a hold of my playbook, and man, does she know how to work it.
It's funny and cute, but it's gone to her head. Over an hour after putting her down for a nap, I was still hearing her gabbing in there. I poked my head in, to find her reclining on her bed in a sitting position, "reading" a magazine. When she saw me, she put down the mag and said "Hi Mommy. I'm all done taking a nap!" Yeah, sure, nice try kid. I know that after this morning, she thinks she's pretty much running this show, but I'm still the mom (sometimes).
"Sam," I said as sweetly as possible "lay down and take a real nap, but THEN, we'll do something more fun."
I've attempted to reclaim my title, but maybe it's too late--I just heard her favorite potty book flush from in there. Well, okay. If we're going to switch roles, that's totally fine with me--she can go clean my bathroom while I take a two hour nap!
First, this morning she asked for "two waffles, peease!" for breakfast (since she was sick yesterday, and she didn't eat lunch or dinner, I'm sure she was starving). When she was done, she very carefully handed me her plastic fork (which I'm pretty sure was only actually used for the first bite), and said "Here you go, Mommy. Put it in da dishwasser!" Hmmm, I had every intention of either 1) leaving it there until I felt like cleaning, or 2) tossing it in the sink. I guess that makes me the kid (or husband *cough cough*) in this scenario? That has been the tip of the "responsible Sam" iceberg today.
Later, I was trying to get myself motivated to get moving, but mostly, I was wandering aimlessly around the kitchen, trying not to mindlessly eat sugar. I didn't really see the point in rushing around getting ready or cleaning, since Sam had a fever last night, I didn't want to take her anywhere today just in case, even though she seems fine. Facing a day of not leaving the house until 6pm is never motivating for me.
Sam came over to me and said "I play in the sambox." For the record, we have a sandbox, but Sam seems to think that because it belongs to her, it is also named after her and calls it her Sambox. It's just too cute to correct. I got her dressed and shoed (I guess if it works for horses...) and opened the back door so she could play (it's literally a foot away from the sliding door so I can see her and the TV from the sofa, which was of course, my plan for the whole day anyway). Sam grabbed my hand and said "Mommy comes too. Get mommy's shoes!" and led me to the shoe basket by the door. When I looked at her to object, she said calmly and not whiny at all, "Mommy come too. Mommy water the garden." It was true, my garden needed watering. Dang it.
An hour or so later, I was back to wandering the kitchen and trying to get motivated. I was whining out loud to Sam that I had to make some cookies for a church activity tonight, but I just didn't feel like doing anything at all--all day long. Why couldn't I make myself do something? Sam hopped up on the couch and turned around to lean on the back of it and look across the kitchen counter at me at almost eye level. Then she put on an excited voice said "Mommy--make some cookie dough, and THEN, drive to da tunnel!!!" Driving through a tunnel is what Sam considers to be the ultimate reward for anything at this time in her life. She asks if we can go through a tunnel anytime we get in the car. The irony here is that we have taken her "true da tunnel" exactly once in her whole life that she remembers. It was on our way to Peoria over a month ago, and apparently has changed her life forever. The fact that she was trying to get me to take her all the way to downtown Phoenix for one three second tunnel ride was not the point. What cracked me up was the way Sam was using all my favorite mom tricks to get me to get off my lazy butt and do stuff. Our roles are totally reversed today, and it seems like she is dragging me along! From the calm statement of "Mommy comes too." that I've used a million times when Sam has no choice but has decided to be difficult "i.e. Nope, you're coming to the store too. Get in the car," to the riduculously overemphasized "THEN" before bribing her with a more fun activity, the kid has gotten a hold of my playbook, and man, does she know how to work it.
It's funny and cute, but it's gone to her head. Over an hour after putting her down for a nap, I was still hearing her gabbing in there. I poked my head in, to find her reclining on her bed in a sitting position, "reading" a magazine. When she saw me, she put down the mag and said "Hi Mommy. I'm all done taking a nap!" Yeah, sure, nice try kid. I know that after this morning, she thinks she's pretty much running this show, but I'm still the mom (sometimes).
"Sam," I said as sweetly as possible "lay down and take a real nap, but THEN, we'll do something more fun."
I've attempted to reclaim my title, but maybe it's too late--I just heard her favorite potty book flush from in there. Well, okay. If we're going to switch roles, that's totally fine with me--she can go clean my bathroom while I take a two hour nap!
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
5 Reasons I Suck at Facebook
If you're one of my "friends" on facebook, it's no big secret that I kind of suck at it. I don't remember the last time I signed in, and I'm pretty sure one of my last status updates said something like "If you need to get in touch with me, you'll have to contact me through Daniel, because I'm never on here." (By the way, kudos to Natalie, who did read my update and wished me a happy birthday on Daniel's page. I actually got the message! Thanks for listening!) My update wasn't meant to be snotty, it's just very true--Daniel checks his facebook quasi-religiously, and I never do. In fact, at some point in the distant or recent past, he saved his login so that our computer automatically pulls up his facebook page. At what point that happened, I have no clue. Could have been six months ago for all I know.
Am I on here pledging to be better? Uh, no. I just logged in to see just how behind I was, and after seeing how many requests I had waiting, and how many things I had to scroll through, I got overwhelmed all over again, and went back into hiding, possibly for another six months. I'm just here to explain why I no longer like Facebook. Here are five reasons I suck at Facebook, and feel very little remorse for it.
1. I don't number my friends. Honestly, I can't tell you how many "friends" I currently have (proof I'm not kidding--upon logging in today I realized they have moved the box that lists my number of friends, and I just didn't bother looking for it). I know it's not a ton, but I also know it's way more than I would ever think to count as friends if I were just listing my buds off the top of my head. I also know that some people live and die by the number of friends they have--and that's never been my style. I've never cared about popularity one bit (and not one person who knows me would disagree with that), I try to be nice to everyone, but I just don't get the hype around "friending" and comparing "friends" with other people. It drives me crazy. Be prepared--if you start a sentence with the phrase "So-and-so has more facebook friends than me..." I have no idea what followed it, because I officially tuned out.
2. I don't "friend" people I don't know, don't remember, or don't like. I have no freakin' clue what goes through people's heads when they send friend requests to people they tormented in High School--particularly without any sort of note explaining why they're doing it. Are you "friending" me because there are a few shots you didn't get in a decade ago? To apologize for years of rudeness? Because you honestly don't remember being a jerk and thought we were friends? Eh, come to think of it, none of those reasons entitles you to be able to view pictures of my kid whenever you feel like it, and jump back into my life. Just because I'm over your past behavior does not mean I'm going to welcome you back into my life with open digital arms. Hello, ignore button. I'm not curious enough to accept the request and see what happens. Also, if I can not remember you to save my life, and you don't include a clue as to who you are (like perhaps, a message telling me your maiden name), but facebook says we went to the same high school, I'm going to assume you are trying to bolster your numbers by trolling for "friends" and ignore you too. It's nothing personal, see #1.
3. Just because your friend request wasn't accepted yet, doesn't mean I don't like you. As I have just admitted, I check my Facebook account maybe two or three times a year, so it's highly likely that I would friend you back, if I see the request. But because I don't check it, people get all upset and worried that they've gotten the dreaded "ignore" button. Chances are, if I see you regularly, and talk to you in person, and am therefore a real, live, friend to you, I'm more than happy to "friend" you online as well. Please don't start being weird around me, or wondering what you did wrong because you sent a request two days ago and it hasn't been answered yet, it will probably be a lot longer before I get around to clicking accept. Until then, seeing as were actual friends, I will call you to find out a status update, ok? Or, if it bothers you that much, tell me about the request, and I will go in there and accept it. Although I don't know what you're banking on seeing, because I rarely update it!
4. I'm just not into details enough to enjoy reading the updates anymore (also known as, I like to keep a little mystery between us). I like knowing what people I know (or used to know) are up to. To a point. Facebook has allowed us to go way WAY beyond that point. Light years beyond that point. For instance, I want to know how many kids you have, how you're doing, where you live, what you do for a living, and maybe if you're having a good or bad day. If you get in a major accident, or suddenly need help/prayers/support, I want to know that too. I do not need to know at any given moment everything you ate that day, the exact amount of sleep you got last night, what you thought of every single TV show you watched today, or the price of everything you have ever purchased ("posted from my blackberry while still at the store!"). That last one particularly bothers me. I'll make all you shoppers out there a deal--if I concede the point that because of all your purchases, you must have more money than me, and therefore must also be my better, will you please stop posting what you have just bought? I doubt before facebook you would call 250 people with every mildly impressive purchase, and just because you can inform 250 people in one fail swoop, doesn't mean you should. Oh, and one last caveat--I'm glad you are able to capitalize on a rough financial time for the rest of us, really, I'm happy for you, but bragging repeatedly online about how much you are spending on a huge new house, while I'm paying my 2006 mortgage rates, makes me want to virtually punch you in the neck. (Forget "poking," can we get a button for that?) If it's tacky to talk about something in mixed company in person, it's equally tacky to blurt it out online.
5. It's gotten too political. From the friends you can't ignore, even if you don't want to exchange casual personal information with them (bosses, some family members, etc.), to the friends who believe that facebook is their own personal Glenn Beck (or Al Franken) hour, facebook has gotten too political for me. I have friends from all walks of life, from every spot on the political spectrum, different colors, religions, and creedos. I have zero problem with people who feel the need to occasionally speak out about a particular subject that hits close to home politically (that's why I blog, for crying out loud!). What I can't stand is the constant political grandstanding (you know who you are!) and all the "invitations" to "causes." My political, religious, and personal beliefs are extremely important to me, and they are also very complex. They can not be summed up by accepting or rejecting a blurb about a so-called "cause." I didn't get in touch with people from my past to constantly offend them politically, nor did I get in touch with them so they could offend me by constantly asking me to in essence "take sides" on complex and controversial political issues with one click. I do not need to virtually walk around wearing a coat of "cause buttons" to display what I believe. I display what I believe in the way I live, and vote, who I choose to associate with, and who I don't. I dislike the fact that because it is so easy to invite friends to take sides on a political issue, people think it is okay to do so. We would never walk up to someone we hadn't seen in 10 years and ask them to join our "No on 210" campaign first crack out of the box, but online, basic politeness seems to go out the window. If you want to join a cause on facebook, that is totally fine, but please do not send me endless requests to do the same, and judge me if I choose otherwise. The fact that I do not want to do lip service for a cause by wearing a virtual button for Greenpeace (because I disagree with some of their practices) does not mean that I'm all up for killing the whale population, and the fact that I think it is ridiculous (and frankly, a little sacrilegious) to become a "fan" of my religion on a website, does not mean I am not proud to be a member of my church. I show that by going, and participating, and living the standards I've set for myself, as opposed to, you know, making a single click. Similarly, if I do not want minute by minute updates on your wedding plans, it does not mean I'm not a fan of your relationship and don't want you to succeed. It means I don't want to be a "fan" in the facebook sense. I still love you.
Along the same lines, please do not make every status update a sales pitch for your pyramid scheme--because while I might not care enough to find the box that numbers my friends, I will search up, down, and sideways to find that "virtual neck punch" button I requested earlier. I will use it liberally on any and all "friends" who seem intent on using me only as a potential customer or political lackey.
In short, I think it may be time for me to take my facebook profile down.
There's keeping updated on people in your life, and then there's holding all your friends virtually hostage to minute details in the name of being a "friend" or a "fan." As it stands now in my life, I think the latter has overwhelmed the former. If you really need to get in touch, you'll know where to find me--on Daniel's facebook page.
Am I on here pledging to be better? Uh, no. I just logged in to see just how behind I was, and after seeing how many requests I had waiting, and how many things I had to scroll through, I got overwhelmed all over again, and went back into hiding, possibly for another six months. I'm just here to explain why I no longer like Facebook. Here are five reasons I suck at Facebook, and feel very little remorse for it.
1. I don't number my friends. Honestly, I can't tell you how many "friends" I currently have (proof I'm not kidding--upon logging in today I realized they have moved the box that lists my number of friends, and I just didn't bother looking for it). I know it's not a ton, but I also know it's way more than I would ever think to count as friends if I were just listing my buds off the top of my head. I also know that some people live and die by the number of friends they have--and that's never been my style. I've never cared about popularity one bit (and not one person who knows me would disagree with that), I try to be nice to everyone, but I just don't get the hype around "friending" and comparing "friends" with other people. It drives me crazy. Be prepared--if you start a sentence with the phrase "So-and-so has more facebook friends than me..." I have no idea what followed it, because I officially tuned out.
2. I don't "friend" people I don't know, don't remember, or don't like. I have no freakin' clue what goes through people's heads when they send friend requests to people they tormented in High School--particularly without any sort of note explaining why they're doing it. Are you "friending" me because there are a few shots you didn't get in a decade ago? To apologize for years of rudeness? Because you honestly don't remember being a jerk and thought we were friends? Eh, come to think of it, none of those reasons entitles you to be able to view pictures of my kid whenever you feel like it, and jump back into my life. Just because I'm over your past behavior does not mean I'm going to welcome you back into my life with open digital arms. Hello, ignore button. I'm not curious enough to accept the request and see what happens. Also, if I can not remember you to save my life, and you don't include a clue as to who you are (like perhaps, a message telling me your maiden name), but facebook says we went to the same high school, I'm going to assume you are trying to bolster your numbers by trolling for "friends" and ignore you too. It's nothing personal, see #1.
3. Just because your friend request wasn't accepted yet, doesn't mean I don't like you. As I have just admitted, I check my Facebook account maybe two or three times a year, so it's highly likely that I would friend you back, if I see the request. But because I don't check it, people get all upset and worried that they've gotten the dreaded "ignore" button. Chances are, if I see you regularly, and talk to you in person, and am therefore a real, live, friend to you, I'm more than happy to "friend" you online as well. Please don't start being weird around me, or wondering what you did wrong because you sent a request two days ago and it hasn't been answered yet, it will probably be a lot longer before I get around to clicking accept. Until then, seeing as were actual friends, I will call you to find out a status update, ok? Or, if it bothers you that much, tell me about the request, and I will go in there and accept it. Although I don't know what you're banking on seeing, because I rarely update it!
4. I'm just not into details enough to enjoy reading the updates anymore (also known as, I like to keep a little mystery between us). I like knowing what people I know (or used to know) are up to. To a point. Facebook has allowed us to go way WAY beyond that point. Light years beyond that point. For instance, I want to know how many kids you have, how you're doing, where you live, what you do for a living, and maybe if you're having a good or bad day. If you get in a major accident, or suddenly need help/prayers/support, I want to know that too. I do not need to know at any given moment everything you ate that day, the exact amount of sleep you got last night, what you thought of every single TV show you watched today, or the price of everything you have ever purchased ("posted from my blackberry while still at the store!"). That last one particularly bothers me. I'll make all you shoppers out there a deal--if I concede the point that because of all your purchases, you must have more money than me, and therefore must also be my better, will you please stop posting what you have just bought? I doubt before facebook you would call 250 people with every mildly impressive purchase, and just because you can inform 250 people in one fail swoop, doesn't mean you should. Oh, and one last caveat--I'm glad you are able to capitalize on a rough financial time for the rest of us, really, I'm happy for you, but bragging repeatedly online about how much you are spending on a huge new house, while I'm paying my 2006 mortgage rates, makes me want to virtually punch you in the neck. (Forget "poking," can we get a button for that?) If it's tacky to talk about something in mixed company in person, it's equally tacky to blurt it out online.
5. It's gotten too political. From the friends you can't ignore, even if you don't want to exchange casual personal information with them (bosses, some family members, etc.), to the friends who believe that facebook is their own personal Glenn Beck (or Al Franken) hour, facebook has gotten too political for me. I have friends from all walks of life, from every spot on the political spectrum, different colors, religions, and creedos. I have zero problem with people who feel the need to occasionally speak out about a particular subject that hits close to home politically (that's why I blog, for crying out loud!). What I can't stand is the constant political grandstanding (you know who you are!) and all the "invitations" to "causes." My political, religious, and personal beliefs are extremely important to me, and they are also very complex. They can not be summed up by accepting or rejecting a blurb about a so-called "cause." I didn't get in touch with people from my past to constantly offend them politically, nor did I get in touch with them so they could offend me by constantly asking me to in essence "take sides" on complex and controversial political issues with one click. I do not need to virtually walk around wearing a coat of "cause buttons" to display what I believe. I display what I believe in the way I live, and vote, who I choose to associate with, and who I don't. I dislike the fact that because it is so easy to invite friends to take sides on a political issue, people think it is okay to do so. We would never walk up to someone we hadn't seen in 10 years and ask them to join our "No on 210" campaign first crack out of the box, but online, basic politeness seems to go out the window. If you want to join a cause on facebook, that is totally fine, but please do not send me endless requests to do the same, and judge me if I choose otherwise. The fact that I do not want to do lip service for a cause by wearing a virtual button for Greenpeace (because I disagree with some of their practices) does not mean that I'm all up for killing the whale population, and the fact that I think it is ridiculous (and frankly, a little sacrilegious) to become a "fan" of my religion on a website, does not mean I am not proud to be a member of my church. I show that by going, and participating, and living the standards I've set for myself, as opposed to, you know, making a single click. Similarly, if I do not want minute by minute updates on your wedding plans, it does not mean I'm not a fan of your relationship and don't want you to succeed. It means I don't want to be a "fan" in the facebook sense. I still love you.
Along the same lines, please do not make every status update a sales pitch for your pyramid scheme--because while I might not care enough to find the box that numbers my friends, I will search up, down, and sideways to find that "virtual neck punch" button I requested earlier. I will use it liberally on any and all "friends" who seem intent on using me only as a potential customer or political lackey.
In short, I think it may be time for me to take my facebook profile down.
There's keeping updated on people in your life, and then there's holding all your friends virtually hostage to minute details in the name of being a "friend" or a "fan." As it stands now in my life, I think the latter has overwhelmed the former. If you really need to get in touch, you'll know where to find me--on Daniel's facebook page.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Ignorance is Bliss vs. Knowledge is Power
After I got out of the shower and got dressed today, I couldn't find Sam in any of the usual places.
When I let out a loud "Where are you?" (Our family's equivalent to Marco Polo--guaranteed to garner a response from Sam) I heard a muffled "He I Yam!" from behind her bathroom door.
"Hey Sam, what are you doing in there?" I asked with a little bitty flinch.
"I cleaning da bafroom!" she yelled and poked her head out of the small crack that she could open the door, due to the piles of towels, toys, and of course, a few dirty clothes she had gathered behind it over the course of the last 20 minutes.
Then I was faced with the eternal question: Do I ask her to show me what that means (to her) and risk being entirely grossed out or confused further? Or, do I just let that one slide on the basis that the diaper genie is still closed and the toilet is shut (so there's a chance, however slight, that her "cleaning" does not involve the use of toilet water). Do I really want to know what made her decide the bathroom was in need of cleaning if there are no visible floods?
I figure sometimes ignorance is bliss. I'll throw that pile of towels in the washing machine as a preventative measure, and enjoy not knowing the rest of the details.
Besides, usually she tells me when something really gross happens. Like on Saturday, when she came running up to me and said "Help me, Mommy! I drop my milk! My sippy cup!"
"Where did you drop it, Sam?"
"In the potty!"
As I watched it float around in there, I finally understood the true meaning of the "toss" part of "Take and Toss sippy cups." The fact that she came right to me instead of fishing it out and putting it back in her mouth makes me proud, however. Sometimes, it's shocking how much parenting makes you reset your standards.
When I let out a loud "Where are you?" (Our family's equivalent to Marco Polo--guaranteed to garner a response from Sam) I heard a muffled "He I Yam!" from behind her bathroom door.
"Hey Sam, what are you doing in there?" I asked with a little bitty flinch.
"I cleaning da bafroom!" she yelled and poked her head out of the small crack that she could open the door, due to the piles of towels, toys, and of course, a few dirty clothes she had gathered behind it over the course of the last 20 minutes.
Then I was faced with the eternal question: Do I ask her to show me what that means (to her) and risk being entirely grossed out or confused further? Or, do I just let that one slide on the basis that the diaper genie is still closed and the toilet is shut (so there's a chance, however slight, that her "cleaning" does not involve the use of toilet water). Do I really want to know what made her decide the bathroom was in need of cleaning if there are no visible floods?
I figure sometimes ignorance is bliss. I'll throw that pile of towels in the washing machine as a preventative measure, and enjoy not knowing the rest of the details.
Besides, usually she tells me when something really gross happens. Like on Saturday, when she came running up to me and said "Help me, Mommy! I drop my milk! My sippy cup!"
"Where did you drop it, Sam?"
"In the potty!"
As I watched it float around in there, I finally understood the true meaning of the "toss" part of "Take and Toss sippy cups." The fact that she came right to me instead of fishing it out and putting it back in her mouth makes me proud, however. Sometimes, it's shocking how much parenting makes you reset your standards.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
I'm So Freakin' Zen!
So, if you're wondering what has happened to all the political outrages and well-worn soapboxes at my house...you are not alone. This blog has certainly take a turn toward the mild, and there is a reason why.
Several months ago, as I've mentioned before, I was diagnosed with migraines, and my most common migraine trigger is stress, especially accompanied by chaos. As an example, helping out in the nursery on Sunday is pretty much guaranteed to lay me out for at least a day afterward. Because of this, and because I would also like to limit the amount of narcotics I need to take to control the migraines once they strike, my doctor has wisely advised me to avoid stress. No, I am not kidding.
Where do doctors come up with this garbage? They're doctors for crying out loud, you'd think they of all people would understand that life comes with a gigantic amount of unavoidable stress, right? They just toss that out there like it's as simple as popping a pill every day. Oh, sure, no more stress, I'll just go live on the moon, but I'd better not stress about having enough oxygen up there...
Oh wait, is that stress rising? Chilling out now.
Anyway, since I am not able to quit being a mom, or wife, or you know, actual human being living in an world full of other actual human beings, and--oh goodness--other drivers, I have had to make some serious and rather minute decisions about where to eliminate my stress.
So I quit watching my favorite "scary" TV shows. No more "Law and Order: SVU" or "Criminal Minds." To my surprise, my recurring violent nightmares have almost entirely stopped (I am not being sarcastic here, because my nightmares were never about things I saw on these shows, I never assumed there was a connection. Seriously, now I look back and feel like a moron).
Next, I gave up the news. Honestly, I've never been more at peace. Sure, I might be a tad behind the eight-ball when something major happens, but Daniel will always call me and tell me to hop online and look it up when there's a major catastrophe (like a volcano in Iceland). What I don't miss, even a teeny bit, is the local news feeling the need to report every incident of child abuse, neglect, or molestation. I don't miss things like "There is a violent burglar terrorizing the valley, stay tuned at ten to see if he's near you, and what you can do to make sure your home isn't next!" I don't miss Fox reporting on American Idol results as if it is actual news. It's not news, it's what happened on your station five minutes ago--it's TV. Let it go. I don't miss political pundits on both sides making me feel like the earth is five minutes away from imploding if we don't all vote no on Prop. 428. Disclaimer: This was a made up prop, because as I've just said, I don't watch the news. If it turns out to be an actual number, please don't vote no just because I told you to. Do your research.
I feel so much better about life in general. I'm not saying I've totally checked out of life outside my home, but I'm finding ways to get my information without the yelling, the bias, the noise surrounding it. It's not for everyone, and the world most definitely needs people to stay checked in and fight the good fight on the issues, but for me, having to find a way to let some things go or be crippled by blinding pain--it's been nice to let go of this one. Getting fired up over every little thing is exhausting, and I have to pick my battles now. It's a bit of a shame that I had to develop an obnoxious, painful, and all around sucky medical condition to make that change, because I am really enjoying trying to find more zen in my life.
It's also made my blog a little boring. Sorry. I still do get all rankled up and preachy from time to time, but it's usually about unavoidable things that are also so personal I don't have the right to vent on the internet about them. Therefore, a little boring. Sorry again.
Please don't worry, I'm still me. When I can find a way to be better at getting all riled and stating my mind without having the issue follow me around and chew at my insides until my head is throbbing, I will be back and better than ever. Until then, try to enjoy my observations on Sam's exploits and maybe take a look at this adorable puppy.
Several months ago, as I've mentioned before, I was diagnosed with migraines, and my most common migraine trigger is stress, especially accompanied by chaos. As an example, helping out in the nursery on Sunday is pretty much guaranteed to lay me out for at least a day afterward. Because of this, and because I would also like to limit the amount of narcotics I need to take to control the migraines once they strike, my doctor has wisely advised me to avoid stress. No, I am not kidding.
Where do doctors come up with this garbage? They're doctors for crying out loud, you'd think they of all people would understand that life comes with a gigantic amount of unavoidable stress, right? They just toss that out there like it's as simple as popping a pill every day. Oh, sure, no more stress, I'll just go live on the moon, but I'd better not stress about having enough oxygen up there...
Oh wait, is that stress rising? Chilling out now.
Anyway, since I am not able to quit being a mom, or wife, or you know, actual human being living in an world full of other actual human beings, and--oh goodness--other drivers, I have had to make some serious and rather minute decisions about where to eliminate my stress.
So I quit watching my favorite "scary" TV shows. No more "Law and Order: SVU" or "Criminal Minds." To my surprise, my recurring violent nightmares have almost entirely stopped (I am not being sarcastic here, because my nightmares were never about things I saw on these shows, I never assumed there was a connection. Seriously, now I look back and feel like a moron).
Next, I gave up the news. Honestly, I've never been more at peace. Sure, I might be a tad behind the eight-ball when something major happens, but Daniel will always call me and tell me to hop online and look it up when there's a major catastrophe (like a volcano in Iceland). What I don't miss, even a teeny bit, is the local news feeling the need to report every incident of child abuse, neglect, or molestation. I don't miss things like "There is a violent burglar terrorizing the valley, stay tuned at ten to see if he's near you, and what you can do to make sure your home isn't next!" I don't miss Fox reporting on American Idol results as if it is actual news. It's not news, it's what happened on your station five minutes ago--it's TV. Let it go. I don't miss political pundits on both sides making me feel like the earth is five minutes away from imploding if we don't all vote no on Prop. 428. Disclaimer: This was a made up prop, because as I've just said, I don't watch the news. If it turns out to be an actual number, please don't vote no just because I told you to. Do your research.
I feel so much better about life in general. I'm not saying I've totally checked out of life outside my home, but I'm finding ways to get my information without the yelling, the bias, the noise surrounding it. It's not for everyone, and the world most definitely needs people to stay checked in and fight the good fight on the issues, but for me, having to find a way to let some things go or be crippled by blinding pain--it's been nice to let go of this one. Getting fired up over every little thing is exhausting, and I have to pick my battles now. It's a bit of a shame that I had to develop an obnoxious, painful, and all around sucky medical condition to make that change, because I am really enjoying trying to find more zen in my life.
It's also made my blog a little boring. Sorry. I still do get all rankled up and preachy from time to time, but it's usually about unavoidable things that are also so personal I don't have the right to vent on the internet about them. Therefore, a little boring. Sorry again.
Please don't worry, I'm still me. When I can find a way to be better at getting all riled and stating my mind without having the issue follow me around and chew at my insides until my head is throbbing, I will be back and better than ever. Until then, try to enjoy my observations on Sam's exploits and maybe take a look at this adorable puppy.
Friday, April 9, 2010
A Few of Her Favorite Things
Sam and I went to Target today to pick up a few things. Namely, a birthday present for her cousin, and a few more I claimed were for her cousin that will actually appear on her birthday. I love having a kid young enough to shop in front of like that. Anyway, after picking out presents for her cousin (and her) we went over to find some more big girl underwear for Sam. I have recently discovered that when someone pees in every pair they wear, a seven pack does not last long at all.
*And before someone jumps all over me about the fact that if the kid is peeing in every pair they may not be ready for potty training, let me just say, I know, I KNOW. But--when you ask a kid if she wants to wear big kid pants instead of diapers and she says "Yes, PEEEEEASE, Mommy!" and promises "No pee pees on Elmo! I go potty," what are you really supposed to do? Tell her you don't believe a word and slap a diaper on her? So, we talk about not peeing on Elmo, or Abby, or Zoe, until I'm blue in the face, and she'll go quite happily dry for several hours while I ask repeatedly if she would like to sit on the potty seat and she says no, and then---puddle. It may not be "right" but it's how we roll right now. I just can't bear to say no big girl pants when she loves them so much. She loves the underwear, she hates sitting on the potty seat right now. C'est la vie.
Anyway, after looking for a ridiculously long time around Target for the big girl pants that weren't big enough for a school-age kid and finally finding them next to the burp rags and infant washcloths (seriously? Does that make any sense at all?), Sam completely glommed on to a package of underwear featuring Brobee from Yo Gabba Gabba. "Mommy, I want deese." That would have been great--except for the fact that they were for boys. I'm for gender equality and all, but it seems to me that boy underpants are structurally very different and would just cause even more confusion. After trying to pitch Dora, Princess, or Minnie Mouse undies all of which were made for girls, and to no avail, I finally discovered a package of Yo Gabba Gabba underwear for girls! Only one packet left in her size--was this a post-Easter underpants miracle? Apparently, yes. Sam fell in love with her new "big girl pants."
Of course, I live in toddler world, and in toddler world, even a good thing, like finding a quality pair of underpants, has a major downside. Like a kid so attached to her packet of undergarments that she doesn't want to hand it out at the checkout counter. And when she finally does, announcing to the check-out person "Hurry up. I buy them!" repeatedly (luckily, the check out person only communicated via writing or ASL, so I didn't translate Sam's rude prodding). Then she insisted on removing them from the bag and carrying them out to the car, staring lovingly at them and saying very loud things to make me happy like "I no pee pees on Todee, mommy!" Of course, she also would periodically wave them over her head and announce "I pee in da potty!"
She insisted on eating her snack with her underwear perched on the table next to her (classy!). And when I told her that if she was going to wear them, I would have to wash them, she snuck away with a pair after begrudingly handing me two of them. She then proceeded to have a tantrum/vigil weeping in front of the washing machine crying "I want my gabbas back! Wash fast, Mommy! My Gabbas! I wear dem!"
So, my daughter's new best friend in the world is an item of clothing. An embarrassing item of clothing to be seen with in public at that.
Parenthood is an absolute blast. Really and truly, because while this loud and obsessive love of underwear is embarrassing for me now, just think how embarrassing it will be for her in a few years when I bring it back up. Sweet, sweet revenge for all the puddles I've cleaned this week.
Muah ha ha.
*And before someone jumps all over me about the fact that if the kid is peeing in every pair they may not be ready for potty training, let me just say, I know, I KNOW. But--when you ask a kid if she wants to wear big kid pants instead of diapers and she says "Yes, PEEEEEASE, Mommy!" and promises "No pee pees on Elmo! I go potty," what are you really supposed to do? Tell her you don't believe a word and slap a diaper on her? So, we talk about not peeing on Elmo, or Abby, or Zoe, until I'm blue in the face, and she'll go quite happily dry for several hours while I ask repeatedly if she would like to sit on the potty seat and she says no, and then---puddle. It may not be "right" but it's how we roll right now. I just can't bear to say no big girl pants when she loves them so much. She loves the underwear, she hates sitting on the potty seat right now. C'est la vie.
Anyway, after looking for a ridiculously long time around Target for the big girl pants that weren't big enough for a school-age kid and finally finding them next to the burp rags and infant washcloths (seriously? Does that make any sense at all?), Sam completely glommed on to a package of underwear featuring Brobee from Yo Gabba Gabba. "Mommy, I want deese." That would have been great--except for the fact that they were for boys. I'm for gender equality and all, but it seems to me that boy underpants are structurally very different and would just cause even more confusion. After trying to pitch Dora, Princess, or Minnie Mouse undies all of which were made for girls, and to no avail, I finally discovered a package of Yo Gabba Gabba underwear for girls! Only one packet left in her size--was this a post-Easter underpants miracle? Apparently, yes. Sam fell in love with her new "big girl pants."
Of course, I live in toddler world, and in toddler world, even a good thing, like finding a quality pair of underpants, has a major downside. Like a kid so attached to her packet of undergarments that she doesn't want to hand it out at the checkout counter. And when she finally does, announcing to the check-out person "Hurry up. I buy them!" repeatedly (luckily, the check out person only communicated via writing or ASL, so I didn't translate Sam's rude prodding). Then she insisted on removing them from the bag and carrying them out to the car, staring lovingly at them and saying very loud things to make me happy like "I no pee pees on Todee, mommy!" Of course, she also would periodically wave them over her head and announce "I pee in da potty!"
She insisted on eating her snack with her underwear perched on the table next to her (classy!). And when I told her that if she was going to wear them, I would have to wash them, she snuck away with a pair after begrudingly handing me two of them. She then proceeded to have a tantrum/vigil weeping in front of the washing machine crying "I want my gabbas back! Wash fast, Mommy! My Gabbas! I wear dem!"
So, my daughter's new best friend in the world is an item of clothing. An embarrassing item of clothing to be seen with in public at that.
Parenthood is an absolute blast. Really and truly, because while this loud and obsessive love of underwear is embarrassing for me now, just think how embarrassing it will be for her in a few years when I bring it back up. Sweet, sweet revenge for all the puddles I've cleaned this week.
Muah ha ha.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)