Author Archives: Allison @ Motherhood, WTF?

PDF: Public Display of Failure

Posted on by
54

The Scene: the lobby of the dance school where L takes his acrobat class

The cast: me, L, approximately 20 other parents and maybe 10 other children

The situation: L doesn’t want to go into his class

The time: 4:30 PM

The scene unfolds in nightmarish fashion. The sounds are too loud, echoing off of the high ceilings and hard floors. L has made his case and now stands an the other end of a long row of seats, all of which are occupied by onlookers. His thumbs are in his ears; his fingers wiggle at me tauntingly; his tongue is out.

I step to the right. He counters with a step to the left. I move left. He moves right. This is a stand-off. This is a stand-off with an audience.

This is what I hate most.

He is loving this. He’s pushing is favorite button. He’s laughing. He’s laughing at my impotence.

“L, you come here right now, please. This is not OK.” I try my most serious tone of voice. One that tells these other parents that I DO NOT take this kind of blatant disrespect lightly. One that tells L that when we are alone I might just strangle him.

“Haha!” He taunts back in a tone that lets the other parents know that he runs the show. A tone that lets me know that he does not give a flying crap about what I think, say, or do.

I will not run after him and give him the gratification of a chase with an audience. I edge to my right, he to his left, soon we are facing each other across the depth of a chair rather than the length of the row. I growl quietly, “If you do not get into that classroom immediately, you will not get any Chinese food tonight.” Thankfully that works.

I am left mortified. At a loss. I’ve never seen anyone else’s child do something like this, which leads me to believe that some part of L is broken. Some part that makes him inherently respect and fear me. How can he be so brazen?

45 minutes into his hour-long class his teacher comes out with L in tow. “Sorry, I just can’t keep him in there anymore. He refuses to practice the routine and he’s running around and tripping the other kids.”

OMG. He’s a monster.

Again, I’m in front of this audience. “You did WHAT? Sit down right there until you’re ready to be nice.” I plan on ignoring him. I want him to sit for the next 15 minutes until he can apologize to the teacher when the class is over. He breaks down into tears. Big, sobbing tears.

“I hate myself. I always get in trouble at school and here too. I’m just so starving. Please take me home for dinner. I’m so so hungry.” He tries to wrap himself up in my arms.

Damn. He did complain about being hungry before class. I didn’t pack him the greatest lunch today. He probably is really hungry. He hates himself? A piece of my heart breaks.

“You don’t always get into trouble. Your teachers always tell me how good you are at school, and this is the first time you’ve ever gotten into trouble here. But what you did is not OK.” My arms are now around him, despite myself.

“Please, please take me home. I’m just so hungry.”

I took him home. I fed him dinner which he ate with gusto and zeal. 3 servings. He was hungry. I told him that his behavior was not acceptable, no matter how hungry he was. I relayed the whole story to T, including how disappointed I was. More tears.

What am I doing wrong? I feel like I’m not a pushover, but maybe I am? Maybe I shouldn’t have given in, made him sit there for 15 minutes? At the time I felt like punishment wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was dinner. I try to balance being tough on him with being empathetic and caring. But I must have something off for him to challenge me the way he did. Right?

I feel like I’ve tried everything. I feel like I’ve said that I’m at my wit’s end a thousand times. I am so tired of having to live out scenes like yesterday’s on the public stage.

 

My Public Service Announcements

Posted on by
12

In case you don’t have an internet IV running through your veins 24/7 like some people I know, ahem, you may not have heard of Blinkbooks. These are short, visual brain candies covering a variety of topics from fashion to children’s stories to humor. I’ve been lucky enough to write several of these and I thought I’d share a couple I’m particularly fond of.

First up is a warning for parents of girls:

Naturally, I needed to warn parents of boys as well:

Next I was inspired by Honest Mom‘s admission that she sees cute babies and her ovaries start stabbing her better sense and judgement. I know this feeling and think it’s important to remind people everywhere what it’s really like to have a baby:

So these are what public service announcements look like when they come from Motherhood, WTF? You’re welcome.

Classified Ad

Posted on by
34

Free to good home: One 5-year-old boy

  • House trained (with regards to potty, but might destroy your furniture);
  • Needs space to run daily;
  • Not recommended for apartment living as your neighbors will complain about the noise;
  • You will save on a lifetime’s worth of alarm clocks!
  • Eats everything (just not when you want him to);
  • Plays well with others (some of the time);
  • Excellent with the elderly and with babies;
  • Provides endless blog fodder.

Act NOW and we’ll include, as a limited time offer:

  • A life-time supply of Advil to help with any headaches you may encounter;
  • A prescription for Xanax;
  • A case of wine;
  • His pockets will come stuffed full of $20′s!

It’s 11:40 AM and I’m tempted to keep L up in his room until T comes home tonight at 5:30. The last couple of days he’s been astonishingly rude and obnoxious, culminating in a playdate (with a little girl he loves) where he told her he wished she would die, that he never wants to play with her, etc. I drove 25 minutes to a park that we spent 10 minutes in before I had to drag him out. Poor S was so happy at the park. Poor me was looking forward to having actual conversation with another mom.

He told me I’m the meanest mother. He told me I’m the worst mother in the world. Truth is, maybe I am? I must be to have raised this child.

He’s been doing so well lately. I thought we turned a corner. Is he never going to get easier?

I don’t know how to just move on and face the rest of the day with him. I feel so angry and disappointed and frustrated. I don’t think I have it in me to play with him any time soon. How long is too long to punish a kid for being a colossal jerk? Me disliking him seems like the only natural consequence, but that can’t be what I’m supposed to do.

Somehow I’m meant to compartmentalize things. I’m meant to not take things personally. I’m meant to not feel emotional responses to his outbursts. Who can do any of that? Are we supposed to magically become automatons when we have children? I’m a person and when I’m not treated well, when I’m embarrassed, or ashamed, or frustrated I feel it. I don’t know how to turn that off.

WTF Tapas

Posted on by
12

S on the potty:

L has a peanut. Do you have a peanut? I don’t have a peanut. I have a china.

…………………………………………………………………………….

L is sweet, disarming, and persuasive, and I fear that he’s going to get some girl “in trouble” one day. I don’t know what to do about this. Conversation from the other morning:

L: Mommy, I just love you so much!

me: I love you so much too.

L: I love you more. I love you so much I can’t even sleep at night. I love you so much I can’t sleep because you’re not in my bed with me.

Oh dear.

……………………………………………………………………………

S’s speech has come along way. Bad news for my S-isms, but generally good news as now she’s mostly understood. However, she has been saying some surprising things lately. Recently I was talking to another mom about babies and she said, with perfect articulation:

We don’t have a baby because our baby died.

WTF? Not only have we never had a baby die, but she also has never known any babies who have died. I have no idea where this came from. A few days earlier she said:

When me get bigger, me be a mommy. Then me die.

(No, honey, you’ll only wish you would…)*

*kidding, please don’t lecture me.

…………………………………………………………………………….

S never ever ever stops talking. If she’s awake, she’s chatting away. She has nothing to say most of the time so she simply narrates. Nothing is too mundane to escape her squeaky narration. 90% of my waking life is spent having a conversation like this one:

S: Imma gonna pick my nose now to see what stuff is in there. Now my finger is in my nose. I can’t get the stuff out. Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?

me: Yes?

S: Imma picking my nose to see what stuff is in there. That OK, Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? That OK that Imma picking my nose to see what stuff is in there? With my finger? That OK, Mommy?

me: It’s not great, S. It’s kind of gross.

S: I have my finger in my nose but I can’t get the stuff out. Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? The stuff is in my nose. It stuck. Mommy?

……………………………………………………………….

 

 

 

Winning Parenting Moments

Posted on by
66

We all have those moments. (Don’t we??) You know, the times when you’re glad you’re not overheard or observed because you absolutely suck as a parent. Being the mom who makes you feel better about your parenting, I can assure you that I have lots of these moments. Here are a couple from just the last week:

me: L, you choose how to behave. Think about what you’re about to do. Think about your choices. (<—- Good parenting)

L: No! YOU think about YOUR choices! (<—- Bad child)

me: Trust me, I am. Right now I’m thinking about my choice to have kids! (<— Bad parenting)

Yup, that’s right. In a moment of anger I told my 5-year-old that I’m rethinking things, and in retrospect, I think that maybe I won’t go off the pill after all. Instead, I choose to be thin, well-rested and rich. I wiggled my nose but nothing happened.

I’m not the only crappy parent in my house. Here’s one for the menfolk:

L: (bouncing a ball in the house after being told not to) See? I didn’t break anything, so HA! (<—- Obnoxious child)

T: If you bounce that ball in here again you will have to sleep outside for the rest of your life. (<—- Bad parenting)

There’s something about one’s own children that can bring a person to his/her worst self in a matter of seconds. I can be a totally happy, reasonable grown-up one minute and with the smallest of efforts, one of my kids can transform me into my 3-year-old self. I’ve stomped feet. I’ve cried. I’ve yelled. I’ve threatened ridiculous things that no one believes.

How do they do it? Why are they so freaking good at it?

As an adult I have a multitude of jobs and responsibilities, some I’m pretty good at, some passable, and some not so good. As kids, my children only have one job: to find our buttons and push them. It’s all they work on day and night and they are brilliant at it. Truly, they have extraordinary innate talent and unflappable dedication to practicing their craft and sharpening their knives skills. I can try to keep a poker face, even succeed once in a while, but eventually they will get to me. They win every.single.time. Each win strengthens their resolve and their little hearts get just a little blacker.

So, if you don’t think your sweet little children have evil in their hearts, if you haven’t threatened to turn them out of your home forever, and if you haven’t tried to use witchcraft to make it all disappear, then you are doing better than at least one other mother. Congratulations.

Listography: Top 5 Beauty Products

Posted on by
18

Today’s Listography topic is near and dear to my heart. Without a certain arsenal of products, I’d be locked away in a bell tower surely. I’ve been enamored with beauty products since I was a little girl, so I’ve tried more than my fair share. Here are my favorites, my stand-bys, my can’t-live-withouts:

1. St. Ives Apricot Scrub: I’ve tried all sorts of expensive scrubs but I always come back to this ultra-cheap option. It used to make me look well rested and fresh-faced, but since having kids the best it can do it make me look a little better rested and maybe 5 minutes younger. But I’ll take all the help I can get! It also feels really good and is cheap enough to use generously all over if needed.

2. Kate Somerville Serum: This stuff is far too expensive. But if you have a pile of extra money and don’t know what to spend it on, run to your nearest Sephora and pick up this serum. It feels wonderful. It’s like a cool drink of water for your face.

3. Bare Minerals Make-up: I love this stuff. Perfect coverage for a make-up free look without all the make-up free ugliness.

4. Vaseline: I’d love to find a petroleum-free product I like as much as petroleum jelly. I use it every morning and every night. 1-2 applications per day keep chapped lips at bay, and I use it around my eyes every night. I also use it to protect my kids faces against cold weather if we’re playing outside in the winter. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been complimented on my lip gloss when all I had on was Vaseline!

5. L’Occitane Hand Cream: This stuff is a luxury for sure. My hands are so dry they often crack. It’s awful. And with them in and out of water all day, if I go a few days with no moisturizer they look like something out of a crypt.

I know this is a top 5 list, but I have to add this last one. Seriously, without it I would not even bother with any of the others. It is the single most important product/item/food in the universe:

6. Coffee: If you think coffee is not a beauty product, then you haven’t seen me before I have a cup.

Anniversary

Posted on by
16

Nine years ago I couldn’t eat. I wanted to, but just couldn’t swallow. I guess I was nervous although it didn’t feel like nerves. It felt like stress and excitement and anticipation, with a huge dose of the surreal in there too. I showered and dressed in a button down shirt so that I could change later without messing up my hair.

I was surrounded by my two closest friends, my sister, and my mom and we set off for the ultimate girls’ afternoon. We ate lunch at a lovely bistro, where again my body just wouldn’t allow me to eat. I knew I had to, and I nibbled on tiny bites. I didn’t want to be that girl later on. Tiny bite of bread. Tiny sip of water.

Soon we were off to the salon for some serious professional primping. Everyone looked so beautiful. White freesia adorned my hair, smelling heavenly as I moved. Everyone felt a little stressed and soon there was an altercation between my sister and my mom over my sister’s hair. I put my foot down. It was my day and they would just have to deal. I liked my sister’s hair, pulled back in an exquisitely funky up-do; my mom worried it was too “strange” and wouldn’t stand the test of time. Who cares? (By the way, my sister and I were right.)

Then came the waiting. And more waiting. More nerves. More anticipation. More tiny bites of food. Finally, FINALLY, it was time. Everyone was seated, waiting for me. My dad asked me if I wanted to back out. Told me it’s not too late. Are you kidding me? I couldn’t wait!

We faced each other and made our promises. We laughed through most of it, both of us feeling nervous and tense with all eyes on us. A perfect, well-thought-out kind of kiss and it was done.

“We’re married!” I said too loudly in disbelief. Everyone laughed and the tension evaporated.

The rest of the night is a blur of dancing, hostess obligations, socializing, smiling, posing for pictures, and feeling like the happiest, luckiest girl in the world. We checked in with each other every few minutes.

“We’re married!”

“I know! Isn’t it crazy?”

Now it’s somehow nine years, three moves, and two whole new people later. It’s strange that this life we’ve built together started in that surreal way, on that day. It’s all the hundreds of little days between then and now that have made us the family we are. The days when my hair was not beautiful. The days when we were not smiling for the camera, not on display. The hundreds of spontaneous, not well-thought-out kisses to say hello, goodbye, I love you. And the hundreds of unspoken promises we have.

I’m still the luckiest girl.

Imaginative or Just Nuts?

Posted on by
8

I’ve decided that imagination is nothing more than a euphemism for freaking crazy. As parents we want our kids to be as crazy as possible, and then suddenly, when they become adults, we want them to stop being crazy. Crazy to the core, right now my kids are obsessed with magic balls.

These balls are invisible, naturally, and magical. They are apparently great fun to play with, but get lost easily. As they are siblings and therefore able to fight about anything, my kids have come to blows and melted down into tears over these balls. How do you referee a fight where one kid takes and hides the other’s magic ball without destroying the crazy imagination we’re trying to foster? What about helping a child recover a lost magic ball?

The other night L had a complete breakdown. I’m talking a good half hour of sobbing despondence over a lost magic ball. Apparently S snatched it out of his hand and threw it aside. We all know that objects she throws go in any direction except the expected direction, so there was no telling where the magic ball may have landed and rolled to. I tried to tempt him with a new magic ball that I happened to have in my pocket. (I’m always prepared.) This would not do. He wanted his magic ball.

It was not until the next time we encountered the problem of lost magic balls that I came up with an infallible solution. Magic balls, in case you didn’t know, always return to their owner if said owner sings a song. The tune doesn’t matter, but the words need to roughly be “magic ball, magic ball, come back to me, come back to me…” 

I now have videos of both kids walking around the lawn singing individual variations of this song and happily reuniting with their errant magic balls. I told you they were crazy.

Please help me stay in the top 25! Click the Circle of Moms button below and then give me a thumbs-up. Only 1 day left to vote. Thank you!

Not What I Meant

Posted on by
12

Recently I was out and about with L while he was in one of his devilish good moods. Ever the charmer, this means he’s hugging babies and chatting up their moms. One of these moms fell for the act hook, line, and sinker. She said to me: “He’s so good-looking! You’re going to be in big trouble!”

This is where I should have said something along the lines of, “Yeah, thanks, I know…” Instead, I took the opportunity to make myself look like a complete ass. I said, “I guess it’s better to have a son be super good-looking than a daughter.” (WTF?) To this she said, “But don’t you also have a daughter?”

I have just effectively said that I think my son is attractive, but I don’t have that “problem” with my daughter. What’s the most graceful way to back out of this? I’m not sure, but I can tell you that it’s not like this:

“I don’t mean that my daughter is ugly. She’s uh, you know, normal. Cute. He’s just… I mean, I love my daughter. I think she’s great. She’s not bad to look at. I like to look at her. I don’t sit around staring at her…”

I went on in this vein for some time until I noticed that the mom had dismissed me entirely and was back to being enamored with L.

I have no moral to this story. I’d just like to officially take this opportunity to say: that’s not what I meant! I really should not be allowed to speak to people.

Please help me stay in the top 25! Click the Circle of Moms button below and then give me a thumbs-up. Only 3 days left to vote. Thank you!