WTF Tapas

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S is all about things she can do when she’s bigger. “Me bigger, me eat gum.” “Me bigger, me go L’s school.” (Yes, she talks like Captain Caveman.) Turns out her fascination with getting bigger extends beyond herself:

“This bowl pink. When it bigger, it red.”

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Before L’s birthday he requested a specific cake:

“I get to have a rock star cake and I can pick the kind! I want chocolate and vanilla, with a little bit of Swiss.”

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L has a habit of hiding contraband in his pants. L also has a habit of not wearing pants. This means that all contraband is poorly hidden in his underpants. Latest thing he’s tried to hide in this manner? A baseball bat.

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I would give my left arm for a fraction of the happy-to-start-the-day-cheer and energy L has. He’s still recovering from jet lag so I’ve been waking him up in order to get him to school on time. This morning I find him deeply asleep sprawled on his bed. I gently rub his back and whisper, “L, honey, it’s morning time.”

His eyes fly open. He grins widely and says, “Well, that was quick!” then leaps out of bed in one bound.

He just can’t be related to me, who wakes up grudgingly and grumpily, and everyone knows not to talk to me until I’ve had some coffee.

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We’re Ba-ack!

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We’re home! We made it. A little worse for wear and without our luggage, but home nonetheless. How to write a post that encompasses the last 3 weeks? It’s impossible. So, here are some random things:

  • New Zealand is awesome. Getting there is not.
  • Right now in NZ the summer is waning into autumn, which means that we had perfectly perfect weather. The kind of weather where you can be outside all day in a t-shirt without being too hot or too cold. I can’t tell you the temperatures, because they’re in Celsius and therefore meaningless to me. It was warm enough for the beach, but not quite warm enough to swim, which did not stop the male members of my family from doing so.
  • We spent a lot of our time on the road visiting with old friends and family. New Zealand is breathtakingly beautiful and the kids couldn’t possibly give a smaller crap about the scenery. They can’t be bothered to look up from their Leapsters to take in the view, no matter that the view may be from a death-defying perch on a twisty narrow road overlooking the sea, sheep-dotted hills, and snow-capped mountains.
  • For us, driving in New Zealand is a 2-man job. 1 person actually operates the vehicle, and the other sits shotgun reminding the driver to stay on the left-hand side of the road.
  • On long haul flights children do not sleep. On short flights those same children fall into the soundest sleep possible and need to be roused upon landing. Of course, this sleep pattern is unexpected, no matter how many times it happens, so the children are not outfitted with the necessary pull-up on those short flights. Did S pee a full bladder’s worth on two separate occasions in her plane’s seat? Yes, yes she did.
  • Children will ask “are we there yet?” and “are we in the sky yet?” before the plane has taxied away from the terminal.
  • When asked what his favorite part of New Zealand was, L will say that it was playing on my iPad on the planes.
  • Thanks to my mother-in-law, T and I were able to spend more time alone together than we have in years.
  • Despite being told prior to our sea kayaking outing that we will either encounter a hundred dolphins or none, T and I saw one dolphin. Considering that dolphins are social creatures and generally are not found alone, we figured this dolphin is probably a real jackass.
  • Unlike their sleepy adult counterparts, when children experience jet lag, they want to be awake. They act like crazy amped-up maniacs and cry every 5-10 minutes from 11:30 PM to 3:30 AM. In related news, I experienced no small joy when I got to wake my sleeping cherubs up this morning. It was a lights on, blankets ripped off kind of experience for them.

So there you have it. I’m back online and happy to be here. I’m exhausted and in Xanax detox. I still don’t have my luggage.

 

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Letter to L on His 5th Birthday

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Dear L,

You’re 5! This past year you’ve shed any lingering babiness and turned into a bona-fide kid. You’re tall and muscular and look so grown up. It’s hard to remember how little you still are sometimes, but you remind me with your cuddles, endless curiosity, hilarious interpretations of the world, and even your emotional instability. (Feel free to outgrow that last one any time now…)

Watching you take in the world around you is one of my favorite things. You are insatiably curious and come up with your own explanations of how things work. These are usually strange, non-sequiturial masterpieces of illogic. Your mind works like an MC Escher drawing and it sometimes hurts my brain, but it’s always interesting.

The inner workings of L’s thought processes. Explains a lot.

If I have as much excitement and joy in my lifetime that you find every day in ordinary things, I would consider myself lucky. Your emotions are big. Huge. This means that you experience more joy and happiness than the rest of us. On the flip side, you also feel more angry, more sad, more frustrated. Every year you get better at coping with these overly large feelings. My job is to help you along the way. It breaks my heart when you’re struggling with these things, but you are getting so much better at handling them. I will try to remember that you are grappling with feelings that seem too big for you, and I will try to not get as frustrated.

You’ve completely exceeded my expectations on this trip to New Zealand. You’ve shown maturity, kindness, patience, and understanding that I didn’t know you possessed. I’m so proud of you. You’ve looked after your sister, suffered extraordinarily long flights, waits, & car rides, endured tiresome visits with strangers, and accepted strange foods, people and places all with good nature and ease. (Well, mostly anyway.) We expect a lot of you as the big brother, the oldest child. And you deliver.

I expect this next year to be one of huge growth for you. You’ll start school and pull away from me in new ways as you grow. I’ll try to let you go. Happy Birthday, L. You are more than I ever expected, more than I could have ever imagined. You are a tiny version of the wonderful, exceptional man you will become, and I could not be prouder to know you.

Love,

Mom

Hello From the Other Side

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Sorry I’ve been MIA. I don’t have the luxury of spending all day connected to some internet device. (I am having serious iPhone withdrawal. Can I get methadone for that?) Anyway, we have arrived safely in New Zealand. The 31 hour trip over here was actually not as bad as I expected. This is in large part because my expectations were rock-bottom low. But I do need to give credit where credit is due. It’s also because I took Xanax. Kidding. I mean, I did take Xanax and that definitely helped, but the kids were actually pretty good.

On our way!

My fear of L getting arrested for plastic explosives (really silly putty) did not materialize. Neither did my fear of L getting arrested for pretending to have various weapons on board. I guess I can say that all my fears of my preschooler getting arrested were unfounded and we got through many security checks and flights without international incident or any sort of restraints.

Sleeping on the planes was problematic. S did not nap at all during the nearly 7 hour flight across the US. This lead to her being particularly grumpy during our 5 hour layover. Thank God for airport moving sidewalks! Those provided some much-needed entertainment and exercise. On a related note, I’d like to take this time to officially apologize to all travelers in the international terminal of SFO between the hours of 2PM-7PM. I may have given them balloon swords, hats, and dogs to do as they pleased with. And I may have let them run wild. Just a bit.

Confession: the kids were not the only difficult people to deal with during this time. I may have snapped at T saying, “The only words I want to hear from you are ‘How can I help?’ or ‘I’m sorry!’” At this point I decided to take another Xanax.

By the time we boarded the second, (14 hour!) flight it was about 10PM EST. My kids were freaking wrecks. Movies and dinner provided some distraction for a while but then it was time to sleep. We changed them into PJs and I can promise you that my little L walking down the aisle in his Superman pajamas was cute enough to wipe just about any slate clean.

Sleep was hard to come by though. It was hot, uncomfortable and they were just beyond tired. Eventually we got S stretched out on the floor at our feet and L stretched out across the seats with his head in T’s lap and his feet in mine. T and I were super comfortable sitting upright in our seats. (Not.) It was now about 2AM EST. The kids slept in 5-10 minute bursts and needed constant back rubbing and soothing. This went on for 4-5 hours and then we just gave up on sleep altogether. This means that they were awake for waaaaaaaaaaaaay too long. My children normally get 10-12 hours of sleep plus a nap. This was not good.

Amazingly, we didn’t get arrested for grumpiness going through customs. However, we took so long walking from the international terminal to the domestic one in Auckland that we very nearly missed our flight despite our 2 hour cushion. This turned out to be a blessing because waiting would have been a disaster. After a mad sprint to the gate, we were given 3 seats together and 1 seat several rows back in an exit row. Needless to say, I grabbed that 1 ticket and ran for it. Was I sweating and smelly and squeezed between two large men? Yes. Was it better than sitting with my kids? Oh yeah!

When we finally arrived I expected the kids to crash. I wanted to crash anyway. But the kids were full of energy and it was only 8AM local time. Even with the 18 hour time difference, long trip, and no sleep, my kids were ready for a full day. So we took them to the beach.

The fresh air was good for all of us. The kids were ready for bed by noon and we forced them to stay up until about 5:30. We’re now on day 6 and we’re all adjusted to the time difference and have a sort of routine going.

How am I coping with it all? Let’s just say that I won’t have any left over Xanax.

We’ll Look Back at This and Laugh One Day (if we survive)

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I’ve been stressed lately about our upcoming trip to New Zealand. I can’t get my head around the mind-blowing 31 hours it will take to get us there. As far as crazy is concerned, I think I’ve been handling myself quite well considering how crazy anxious I am about the whole ordeal. I’ve gotten to a weird place beyond stress and anxiety. It’s kind of peaceful here, even if it’s in a One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest sort of way.

I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

  • I just sent an email to my doctor asking if a person can take a Xanax and an Ambien within 24 hours and still wake up alive on the other end. (In related news, my doctor now thinks I’m a junkie.)
  • I have Melatonin which I plan on giving to my kids around hour 15.
  • I have 2 iPhones, an iTouch and an iPad loaded with games, movies, books and music.
  • I have 2 Leapsters and a handful of new games.
  • I have bought out the dollar store and the dollar section of Target so I have every cheap, lead-based toy out there.
  • I have crayons and stickers and lollipops.
  • I have crafts and wind-up toys and tiny toys and cuddly toys.
  • I have eye masks and ear plugs. Enough of the latter to hand out to surrounding passengers if need be.
  • I have pajamas, pull-ups, and changes of clothes.
  • I have sippy cups and water bottles and wet wipes and hand sanitizer.
  • I have even been practicing making balloon animals and I’m bringing all related gear for minutes of entertainment during long layovers! (I did say I was going crazy, remember?)

My carry-on luggage might need to be packed by an MIT engineer.

My image of how the trip will go involves T and I walking miles in airports carrying our own bags, the kid’s bags, and each of us with a crying, kicking, screaming kid under an arm. I envision sweat, assorted potty accidents, tears, drool, food stains, and blood and/or vomit saturating my hair and clothes. I can see little feet kicking seats. I can hear crying jags complete with boneless children on the ground yelling embarrassing things. I can feel my annoyance with everyone and everything, especially T because he just isn’t me. I can’t even bring myself to picture the horrors that will go down in the planes’ bathrooms.

Basically, I’m expecting the worst. If I’m not detained at customs for being too dirty, crazy, and mean to enter New Zealand, it’s a win. If my 4-year-old doesn’t end up in an air marshal’s handcuffs at any point, it’s a win. If any of us manage any sleep at any point in our journey, it’s a win. If my body can tolerate a mix of Xanax and Ambien and stress and sleep deprivation without landing me in a hospital or morgue, it’s a win.

My expectations are low. If I’m not pleasantly surprised, then there stands a good chance that we are inadvertently moving to New Zealand because I will not face the journey home. Or I’ll come home in a straight jacket.

Any which way it goes down, I’ll take notes and blog about it when I get a chance. I will not be able to blog consistently, but I promise that I will not suffer in vain. We will get comedy out of this by God!

My Stress, Their Fun

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I’m going to New Zealand in 11 days. The mere thought of it makes my heart race and my palms sweat. I know that complaining about travelling to New Zealand seems like a major no-no, but please consider this: 2 hours in airport A; 6 hour flight; 5 hours in airport B; 14 hour flight; 2 hours in airport C; 2 hour flight. This actually adds up to 31 hours of travel time. Insert 2-year-old and nearly 5-year-old. Insert jet lag. Insert airport waits that go past bed time. Insert my anxiety about flying in general. And that brings us to panic attacks.

My anxiety over my upcoming trip has an unexpected side effect: I can’t handle sitting around idly because my mind starts racing with all I have to bring/endure for the extraordinarily long trip with 2 small kids in tow.

So, I’ve been keeping busy. Which is great for my kids. Today, instead of trying to entertain ourselves at home or with tired activities like errands and the library, I decided to give them a great day out. I took them here:

So many ways to get tired, so little time

Only one of them responds to "1, 2, 3, jump!"

In another room I even forked up the cash for the merry-go-round. It was 11 seconds of pure adrenaline and bliss for a mere $0.50.

When the kids got cranky, I took them out to lunch where I downed more coffee and they had grilled cheese and strawberry milk. (Holy shit strawberry milk is delicious!) Did we head straight home? Nope. We went back to play some more. I’m that awesome.

All in all, it was a good day out and now I feel like I deserve a medal. Is this what you good moms do all the time? It’s totally exhausting. Don’t get me wrong; I wanted it to be totally exhausting, but I was hoping this would be the effect on them, not me.

Worst parts:

  1. L complaining that he was bored;
  2. L begging for every scrap of junk food the snack area offered;
  3. S playing with the “tiny, tiny garbage cans” in the ladies’ bathroom stalls;
  4. L noticing same cans and also playing with them;
  5. Having to climb into the climbing structure to haul the kids out when it was time to go.
But the very, very, very worst part? That would be the kids complaining about the long, boring (30 minute) drive. If sitting in a car for 30 minutes is that painful for them, how in the world are any of us going to survive our trip to New Zealand? And here we go with the panic attacks again…

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S-isms Solved

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You guys are getting better at decoding S! Many of you got the song (#3) and a few also got #’s 1, 5 and 6. I figured out what #2 is!! She said it again yesterday. None of you were close.

  1. Gop!
    • Stop! This she says with conviction while holding her hand up in front of her like a traffic cop or a Supreme.
  2. Gatka da yee-ess gor off?
    • This is the one that was a mystery to even me. When she originally said it I knew what she meant and wrote it down without translation. When I went back to post it, the meaning was lost to me. Until she said it again yesterday. A discarded toy did that thing that toys do – it made a noise after 3 minutes or so to see if it could lure a child back to its noisy side. The toy in question was L’s Leapster, which both my kids call a DS. S was asking if that sound was the DS turning off. “That sound the DS turn off?”
  3. We bik dee gitty oh walkie woal. 
    • We built this city on rock and roll!
  4. Ging eekie eekie gong. 
    • Sing Twinkle Twinkle song. We sing this together every night. S’s version is: Eekie, eekie, eekie tar. How wa wa wa wa wa are. Uppa Uppa kie so high. Like a eekie in da kie. Eekie, eekie, eekie tar. How wa wa wa wa wa are. 
  5. Me go how put gope on.
    • Me know how to put soap on.
  6. It’s too gunny ow guys.
    • It’s too sunny outside.

S-isms

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Do you know WTF my 2-year-old is saying?

  1. Gop!
  2. Gatka da yee-ess gor off?*
  3. We bik dee gitty oh walkie woal. (Hint: this one is sung, not said.)
  4. Ging eekie eekie gong. (No, I’m not kidding.)
  5. Me go how put gope on.
  6. It’s too gunny ow guys.

*I’ve been writing these down as they happen. This one I didn’t translate at the time and now I can’t for the life of me figure out what it means.

 

I Suck More Than You Do

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I imagine that the relationships between other mothers and their young (toddler-preschooler) children remain pretty consistently good. Sure there are challenges along the way, but the actual relationship is warm, loving, supportive, not-strained. For some reason, my relationship with L has never been like this. We go through periods where we get along OK, but inevitably every few months we end up back to butting heads over everything.

This is all a surprise to me. I fully expected to need to work on my relationship with my husband, that my relationships with friends would go through ebbs and flows, that my relationships with my siblings and parents would change over time, that my relationships with my kids as they progressed through the teen years into adulthood would have challenges and need extra work. But I never imagined that my biggest struggle would be my relationship with a 4-year-old. What does this say about me?

This is the stuff that’s supposed to just come naturally, right? I’m the mom, therefore my feelings towards my son should involve things like overwhelming love, an overwhelming desire to support him, help him learn and grow, overwhelming wonderment, blah, blah, blah. He’s the child so his feelings towards me should involve things like love, thinking I’m kind of a superhero, thinking I’m the best thing since sliced bread, (despite his overwhelming desire to push boundaries,) etc. I don’t expect a nearly 5-year-old and his mom to never have disagreements, but I would expect the relationship to be straightforward. Ours is not. None of this comes naturally to me. This is all a reflection of my ineptitude. I feel like he is not a child I can parent properly. I am always irritated with him just being him. That can’t be how a mom is supposed to feel.

My “dislike” of all things L isn’t a one way street. He clearly dislikes all things mom too. He always has. He has always worshiped T and somewhat tolerated me. His first sentence was “No Mommy, Daddy!” He used to cry when it was me who came into his room to fetch him from his crib in the morning. And it was me every damn day. He’d throw his toys at me and tell me to go away that he wanted Daddy. Seriously. This started around 10 months of age. Not cool. This preference was supposed to be a phase, but it hasn’t changed one bit.

None of this is right. None of it is how it’s supposed to be. Since he’s the kid, clearly I’m the one doing something wrong. This isn’t a parenting issue that can be solved with trying a new discipline or parenting technique from a book, this is a basic thing that should be natural that I’ve got all wrong. And it’s highlighted daily by the fact that he has a sister who adores me (as she rightly should!) and who I properly adore right back. Even when she’s doing her 2-year-old gig, I “get” her in a way I’ve never gotten L.

I do not want my son to grow up with the constant message that he’s annoying me. But he is annoying me. This whole post makes me sounds like a monster. And I feel like a monster for thinking and feeling this stuff. I feel like it can’t be right. I must be missing some part of me that would make me a good mom for him. I’m hoping there are others out there feeling this! I hope there are others who went through this and now have a wonderful 20-something son to show for it. I just don’t want to ruin this child and I feel like I am.