Ditched

The day after Mother’s Day my husband took off. He hopped on a plane to Texas for a last
minute business trip, leaving me to fend for myself. I guess he figured he had thanked me enough for giving birth to
and raising his two children when he finished installing the hummingbird feeder
that he and the kids got me for Mother’s Day. I had been appreciated enough. He could leave. All kidding
aside, this trip offered a great opportunity for his career and I fully support
him. I just don’t like it when he is
gone.

I don’t like having the full responsibility of the kids all
day with no break. I don’t like sitting
alone on the couch after the kids go to sleep watching our favorite TV shows
solo and I don’t like sleeping alone. I
guess the latter is the reason that I caved to my son’s request to sleep with
me last night. He claimed to hear
strange noises in his bedroom that kept waking him up. Whatever. He sensed my vulnerability in the absence of his father and decided to
capitalize on it.

Regardless of the reason, I caved. I tucked my son in on my husband’s side of our bed and kissed him
goodnight. I laid down beside him,
hoping to get to sleep early when he turned to me and, totally unprovoked, said
this:

“Mommy, do you know why I like to sleep with you so much?”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have to wait to see you when I wake up in
the morning. You’re right there.”

I melted. I cannot
imagine a sweeter sentiment coming out of anyone’s mouth. I knew, right then and there, that my son
would be sleeping on my husband’s pillow every night until he returned
home. I fell asleep a very happy,
peaceful Mama.

Cruisin' For A Bruisin'

My poor, deprived child has never been on a cruise
ship. Can you believe it? How can I call myself a parent? 

In January, my husband and I went on a Disney cruise. It was a short trip, just three nights, but
it was just what the doctor ordered. We
enjoyed the Caribbean Sea, drank some fruity drinks, ate some good food and did
not have to worry about anyone’s needs but our own. It was a blissful three days. My son has been watching the photo slideshow screensaver on my computer
recently and the cruise pictures prompted him to say, in the whiniest voice
imaginable, “You and Daddy always get to go on a cruise ship and I never
do. I never get to do anything fun.”

I was a little taken aback by this. It came out of nowhere. He had never even mentioned the cruise
before and had certainly never expressed a desire to go on one. I decided, in my infinite parental wisdom,
to mock him, “Oh, poor you. I can’t
believe that in all of your four-and-a-half years of life you have never been
on a cruise ship. How have you made it
this far?” This did not go over well.

My son did a dramatic, arms to the sky, “why me?” kind of
move and plopped down on his knees and sulked. I decided to ignore him. My
hopes of raising a child with minimal entitlement issues have been
squandered. I guess I need to deprive
him of some basic needs for a couple of days so he appreciates what he’s
got. There’s that infinite parental
wisdom again.

Black and White Stripes

Female referees are hard to find in the world of
professional sports. They seem
virtually non-existent. This is
unfortunate, as it seems to be a role that females in general and mothers in
particular were born to play. I have
learned this lesson the hard way in the past two months as I have adjusted to
my new role. I tend to be a solid
color, peace-lovin’ kind of girl so it has taken me a while to get used to my
new black and white striped uniform. I
do not wear it well and would most definitely get canned at Lady Footlocker if
I ever had the desire to sell overpriced tennis shoes and sportswear to young
female athletes.

My children fight all of the time. I am constantly running interference between them, trying
desperately to negotiate a peace plan.  It’s not working. My
diplomatic efforts have been snubbed by the inability of my two-year-old
daughter to communicate effectively and my four-year-old son’s unwavering
intolerance of anything and everything outside the realm of what is “supposed
to happen” in his grand life plan. It
is a really bad combination and I do not know if these two strong personalities
will ever be able to coexist in harmony. It doesn’t seem likely in the near future. 

My daughter is an instigator. She likes to irritate my son for the sheer joy of making him
angry. I can’t imagine where she gets
this quality. Other than the bi-weekly
pain tests (pinching of each of his fingers as hard as I could muster while
forbidding my brother to utter even the softest sound) and the constant
manipulation, I was the perfect sister. I was sweet and loving and fun as long as my brother did exactly what I
told him to without question. My son is
not quite as innocent and vulnerable as my brother was but he is still a pretty
easy target. Making him angry is a very
simple task and he always comes back for more. He just can’t seem to recognize the fact that his reaction is what
motivates my daughter to irritate him. Will he ever figure that out? Only time will tell.

Right now I need a plan. I need a consistent plan that will give me the power to punish my
daughter for irritating my son as well as the power to punish my son for
telling on her in the whiny, indescribably annoying voice of a hapless victim. The latter is incredibly taxing. Hearing my son whine and play the victim has
become so commonplace that it sounds like nails on a chalkboard to me. I have to put a stop to it. Right now my plan is to divide my living
room and the backyard (where we spend the bulk of our time) into two equal
halves with a tall, clear plastic, soundproof partition. I realize this may not be the most practical
or economically sound plan but for now it’s all I’ve got. I’m open to suggestions.

Lofty Goals

It’s 9:12 a.m. and I have already loaded the kids in the
car, driven half the way to school, watched my son vomit twice all over himself
and the car seat, turned the car around, unloaded the kids, cleaned up a
massive amount of vomit and put the car seat covers in the wash. It’s been an eventful
day. I’m hoping that this vomiting episode is
just a short-lived stomach bug and that my son’s throwing up episodes are over. I’d prefer to spend the rest of my day
completely vomit free. We’ll see what
happens.

On a much more positive note, my daughter has been pacifier
free for 24 hours with hardly a complaint. She asked for it at naptime and at bedtime yesterday but passively
accepted my refusal to give in to her request. This may be a surprisingly painless process. I have two goals for today:

• Keep my daughter’s pacifier out of her mouth and her sight.



• Keep myself, my son and my daughter vomit free.

Wish me luck.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow...

My son cannot distinguish between today and tomorrow. He
thinks that every time he wakes up from a nap a new day has begun. Sleep equals tomorrow regardless of whether
it was a nap or nighttime. I’m not
quite sure how to cure him of this condition. I’ve tried explaining that another day cannot pass until the sun has set
and the moon has come up but this goes right over his head and is unfortunately
negated by the many sightings of the moon that we’ve had during daylight hours. This inability to distinguish between bedtime and naps may seem like a fairly benign condition but it does
create some conflict in our household.

I told my son, for example, this past Tuesday that we would
be getting the pool out tomorrow. He
smiled and said, “Yippee!” and did a little happy dance. A couple hours later he woke up from his nap
and began this conversation:

Son: Are we
getting the pool out today?

Me: No,
remember? We’re getting it out
tomorrow.

Son: That was
yesterday. I just woke up.

Me: Sweetie, that
was a nap. It’s still the same day as
it was before you went to bed.

Son: What? ((((Pause while he comprehends the
situation)))) I thought we were getting

the pool
out today! (Jumping commences) You TOLD me we were getting it out
tomorrow
and it IS tomorrow. (tears start to
flow)

Me: It has to get
dark and light again before a new day begins. The sun is still up. We’ll
get the
pool out tomorrow. I promise.

 The crying and jumping went on for a few minutes while he
came to terms with the pool situation. I reassured him that tomorrow was not very far away and explained the
distinction between naps and bedtime again to him, grasping at straws in the
hopes that it would finally compute in that head of his. It didn’t. After his nap yesterday he wished my daughter a happy birthday because I
told him earlier in the day that her birthday was tomorrow.

A Local Tragedy

On
Tuesday a 14-month-old little boy died after he was left in a car for seven
hours in 90-degree heat. This happened in Chattanooga. The father (who left him
in the car) is an upstanding citizen with four children. This is a tragedy that
I cannot seem to let go of. It lingers in the air around me like humidity. I
can’t shake the feeling that it could have been me.

I
could have been that father who left his baby in the car. I could have been
talking on my cell phone while I dropped my three older children off at school
and completely forgotten about the baby asleep in his car seat behind me. I
could have gone to work and pushed the button on my car keys four times to
silence the ultra-sensitive alarm, not knowing all the while that it was the
motion sensor alarm triggered by my child’s movements. I could be facing
criminal charges right now. I could be mourning the loss of my precious baby,
wondering what he went through in that car for seven hours in 90-degree
weather. It could have been me. That child could be mine.

I
have parked in the Wal-Mart parking lot, gotten out of my car and closed all of
my doors before I remembered that my daughter was asleep in the backseat. I
never did it when I had just one child but I have done it twice since having
two. I leave my son at home or at a friend’s house and take my daughter with me
on whatever errand I have to run. She falls asleep and I am so accustomed to
noise and incessant talking when children are in the car that I forget, just
for a second or two, that I am not the only passenger. It’s scary.  I know
that I am not the only person who has done this. Anyone with multiple children
has probably forgotten their sleeping child for a second or two, whether they
will admit it or not.

I
feel deep sorrow for this family and their loss. I cannot imagine what they are
going through.  I realize that the father made a horrible, irreversible
mistake and is most certainly guilty of criminal negligence but I think his
loss and grief are enough of a punishment. Taking him away from his family will
accomplish nothing. We need to refrain from cell-phone use in the car and
remember how quiet and peaceful a car ride can be when a child is asleep.
Always check and recheck your car seats when you exit the vehicle, even when it
seems ridiculous to do so. This is a lesson that no one should have to learn
the hard way.

Cold Turkey

I’m happy to report that my YMCA nursery battle is
officially over. My daughter walks
through the Dutch door happily every morning and doesn’t even request her
pacifier or her blanket anymore. When I
come to get her after my blissful, child-free workout, she’s happily playing
instead of standing by the door, patiently waiting for me. What a relief. My challenges are far from over, however, because I have decided
to take away her pacifier on Sunday. 

My daughter has never been super attached to her
pacifier. She likes to have it when she
sleeps and when she is tired. Most of
her waking hours are spent pacifier-free. I have been trying, for the past few weeks, to limit her pacifier use to
bedtime only. I’m working myself up to
the big day. Her second birthday is
Friday and I feel like two is a pretty good age to surrender the pacifier. I don’t want to do it on her actual birthday
and we’ve got a babysitter on Saturday night so I think Sunday is the day. 

Moms are always quick to pass immediate and harsh judgment
on other Moms when they seem to be indulging their children in some way. Allowing a child over the age of three to
use a pacifier can be the source of many disapproving looks. I know. I’m guilty of it. I’ve seen
children that are four or five with a pacifier in their mouth and, dependant on
whether I am alone or with friends, I will criticize the Mom quietly to myself
or lock eyes with my friends in a collective, supercilious condemnation. We will snicker about that mother behind her
back at lunch and feel sorry for that child. He’s probably attached to a leash in crowded places too. Poor kid.

My best friend when I was five was a pacifier addict. The victim of an overindulgent Mother, he
kept two to three pacifiers in his pocket at all times. Whenever he got the urge, he’d pull one of
those suckers out and pop it in his mouth. It was pretty comical but I shudder at the thought of having a kid like
that. That’s why I’ve got to tackle
this issue now. I’ve got to get her
over her pacifier before she knows how to ask for it. I’m taking it away Sunday, cold turkey. I’m sure this won’t be a permanent solution as there are probably
12-15 pacifiers hidden in various places in our house. My daughter is pretty resourceful so I am certain
she will tap that supply in the coming week. We should be, however, completely pacifier free by the time school is
out (May 18^th). Wish us
luck. I sure am going to miss that
Bubba pacifier. I might have to have
another kid just so I can use it again.