Showing posts with label mommy blog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mommy blog. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
How the Lorax is helping me take less Xanax
My kids have been driving me crazy. I'm not talking about the normal pick-up-your-clothes and stop-making-that-face-at-your-sister crazy, I'm talking about the slamming doors yelling I hate you kind of crazy. The kind of rudeness that hangs over you like a Harry Potter dementor--sucking all the joy out of the air.They are rude to each other, to their friends and to their parents.
They have to be told multiple times to do EVERYTHING!
Brush your teeth.
Get your PJs.
Stop touching each other.
Stop yelling at each other.
They have all taking on an attitude of It's MY way or no way. Playing games with them is torturous. Trying to get them to practice musical instruments make me want to cry. I feel like they are tag teaming me. They out number me and with daddy traveling more often than not I am at my wits end.
WITS END!
Even the dog is giving me a look.
Hence my wonderful plan. My gloriously, wonderful, beautiful plan!
Compliments. Kindness. Dinner at the table.
If you speak kindly you get a point. If you are caught being nice you get a point. If you are rude, you lose a point. If you mock someone or speak rudely to anyone you loose a point. The idea is that once we reach a certain number of points we will all go see the Lorax as a family.
Hopefully a much more civil and less obnoxious family.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
An open letter to my son on his 8th birthday
Dear Little G,
Eight years ago today I was in the hospital having you, my third baby in less than five years. Your sisters were 4 and 2.
We lived in Ohio about 6 hours from our closest family and to say I was a little overwhelmed would be an understatement.
Unlike your sisters, you seemed to sense it. You seemed to know from the very beginning that I needed you to be easy.
And you were.
You spent a lot of time in your car carrier or your vibrating chair. You ran with me to take Oldest G to preschool. You slept through Middle G's gymboree class. You just went with the flow.
For the most part, you still do. You don't complain about going to your sister's soccer games and you just ride along when we have to go to the middle school for the umpteeth time to pick up Oldest G.
I hope this means that you will be an easy going tween too. I hope this means that when you are grown you will see the benefits of being flexible.
My advice this year is simple...
Fill your life with people who make you happy and avoid those who do not.
Do not be afraid to step out of your comfort zone and try something different. Is is good to push yourself beyond what you think you are capable of doing.
Remember to always say thank you. Thank people for their time, for lunch, for their help and for just being there for you. You will be surprised how thanking them will be a blessing to you.
You are loved so very much and no matter how old you get I am afraid that you will always be Little G to me.
My heart forever,
Mommy
Eight years ago today I was in the hospital having you, my third baby in less than five years. Your sisters were 4 and 2.
We lived in Ohio about 6 hours from our closest family and to say I was a little overwhelmed would be an understatement.
Unlike your sisters, you seemed to sense it. You seemed to know from the very beginning that I needed you to be easy.
And you were.
You spent a lot of time in your car carrier or your vibrating chair. You ran with me to take Oldest G to preschool. You slept through Middle G's gymboree class. You just went with the flow.
For the most part, you still do. You don't complain about going to your sister's soccer games and you just ride along when we have to go to the middle school for the umpteeth time to pick up Oldest G.
I hope this means that you will be an easy going tween too. I hope this means that when you are grown you will see the benefits of being flexible.
My advice this year is simple...
Fill your life with people who make you happy and avoid those who do not.
Do not be afraid to step out of your comfort zone and try something different. Is is good to push yourself beyond what you think you are capable of doing.
Remember to always say thank you. Thank people for their time, for lunch, for their help and for just being there for you. You will be surprised how thanking them will be a blessing to you.
You are loved so very much and no matter how old you get I am afraid that you will always be Little G to me.
My heart forever,
Mommy
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
An open letter to my 5th grader
Dear Middle G,
Another school year is upon us and you are starting the 5th grade. You will likely change a lot this year.
When I look at you, I still see the tiny toddler with the deep voice. It sometimes catches me by surprise when I realize that you have been transformed into the beautiful young lady in front of me.
This year, boys might stop being completely yucky. Dare I say it, you may even think one or two of them are cute. The problem is they will continue to find you yucky for another year or two. This is a good thing. Trust me.
Some advice from your mama.
Choose your friends wisely. Girls are catty. They like you one day but not the next. Don't be like that. Treat everyone with respect, even if they don't deserve it.
You aren't going to be good at something the first time you try it. Everything takes practice. Believe it or not, you had to fall a couple of times before you learned to walk.
If it is worth doing, it is worth doing to the best of your abilities. Whether that's the violin, math, soccer or science always try your best.
We butt heads alot. You are stubborn. As you grow, we are going to butt heads even more. But I can promise you this, I will always be in your corner. I will always be cheering for you!
Make it a great 5th grade year. The choice is yours.
Love,
Mom
Another school year is upon us and you are starting the 5th grade. You will likely change a lot this year.
When I look at you, I still see the tiny toddler with the deep voice. It sometimes catches me by surprise when I realize that you have been transformed into the beautiful young lady in front of me.
This year, boys might stop being completely yucky. Dare I say it, you may even think one or two of them are cute. The problem is they will continue to find you yucky for another year or two. This is a good thing. Trust me.
Some advice from your mama.
Choose your friends wisely. Girls are catty. They like you one day but not the next. Don't be like that. Treat everyone with respect, even if they don't deserve it.
You aren't going to be good at something the first time you try it. Everything takes practice. Believe it or not, you had to fall a couple of times before you learned to walk.
If it is worth doing, it is worth doing to the best of your abilities. Whether that's the violin, math, soccer or science always try your best.
We butt heads alot. You are stubborn. As you grow, we are going to butt heads even more. But I can promise you this, I will always be in your corner. I will always be cheering for you!
Make it a great 5th grade year. The choice is yours.
Love,
Mom
Thursday, February 24, 2011
An open letter to my 12 year old daughter
Dear Oldest G,
On your birthday it has become a sort of tradition for me to articulate to you some random words of wisdom. It is my hope that one day you will look back on some of these blog posts and smile. Perhaps they will mean something to you.
Twelve years ago today I was exhausted, overwhelmed and terrified. I was about to be released from the hospital with you. Your dad and I were young and entirely on our own. Your grandparents were all at least six hours away. Your aunts were even farther.
Daddy took five days off of work and we decided that for those five days we were just gonna try to figure out what life as a family of three meant to us.
Nursing was foreign and I was convinced you were starving to death. You made so many different noises. You were never really completely quiet. We were at a loss as to why you were crying. We weren't sure if you should be using more or less diapers. We had many conversations about your bowel movements, when your umbilical cord would fall off and whether or not you had thrush.
For a while, Daddy and I forgot how to talk about anything but you.
The funny thing is I can't believe that more than 12 years have gone by. Often times I still feel at a loss. I still feel terrified. I still wonder if you are eating what you should. I still can't figure out all the things that make you cry.
You are no longer that little baby who needed me endlessly. Nor are you that toddler who said funny words and was obsessed with Blue's Clues. You are an adolescent, soon-to-be a middle schooler. Your looks are changing, your body is changing. I have no doubt that before this time next year you will be taller than your 5'2 mom.
It has been a privilege to watch you grow these last 12 years. I realize that over the next few years our relationship is going to be a swinging pendulum full of emotion. For many of those years you will value the opinions of your friends more than you value mine. I want to say that I'm ready for this. That I know whole-heartedly that I can face anything that comes my way.
But to tell you the truth I'm as scared about these next few years as I was the first day I tried to safely secured you into your car seat.
It is my hope for you that you will always be true to yourself and to your beliefs. That you will not let those around you sway you from your core values. That you will always give faith a fighting chance. That you follow your passion and figure out a way to earn a living doing it. That you will treat others the way you want to be treated. That family means something to you.
That you will surround yourself with an inner circle that will always be there for you and that you remember, it is not the quantity of your friends, it is the quality.
Always there for you,
Mom
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Today was one of those days
Today was one of those days.
One of those days where nothing goes right.
One of those days when you feel like the worst parent in the entire world.
My day started with my son bursting into tears at school while I was serving breakfast. I'm in the middle of that and he is literally sobbing because he...wait for it...
wait for it....
THINKS. HE. LOOKS. FAT. IN. HIS. SWEATSHIRT.
OMG. Is someone playing a joke on me? Why does my seven year old son care what he looks like in his sweatshirt. He's a 42 pound 1st grader.
Not only was he crying, but he couldn't get a hold of himself. Even after the bell rang he was still crying. He went to class sobbing. His teacher made it a point to talk to me. She wanted bring it to the attention of the school counselor, whom he already visits regularly because he has trouble controlling his emotions. A.K.A. He cries all the time.
I told his teacher that I already mentioned it to the counselor. Apparently the counselor spoke with Little G later in the afternoon. But when I asked him about it he told me he prefers to speak to Miss R about it and not to me.
That hurts...just a little.
Middle daughter has been nothing but belligerent all week. Today was no exception. She has a way of being the bully and the victim at the same time. She has a way of thinking that everyone is against her and nobody loves her.
She screams at me a lot. She tells her dad that she doesn't think I love her.
That hurts...just a little. Okay...maybe a lot.
Oldest daughter won't get out of bed. Oldest daughter doesn't like to shower. Oldest daughter smells like an old gym sock. I beg her every morning to put on deodorant. I ask her repeatedly to address her hygiene. She doesn't. She rolls her eyes at me and tells me she is wearing deodorant. Her clothing smells. Her coat smells.
I feel bad that I miss the toddler version of her.
My evening was suppose to be enjoyable. I was taking the kids to swim at the high school. It was a school function. It was free if you brought a can good.
It was from 6-8:30.
We shoveled some food in our mouths at 5:00; we picked up some friends and we were at the high school at 6 sharp. A miracle.
And the door was locked.
The librarian was there. She organized the event. The high school principal was located but he didn't know anything about it. The pool was closed. There were no lifeguards there. Could we wait while he called some?
More people started to arrive.
It was louder than 3rd grade lunch.
It was crowded and it was hot.
We had been waiting for almost 45 minutes when I see a fifth grade teacher bringing my kid back to me. My son apparently was punching people and may or may not have spit on someone. Fan...frickin...tastic.
The lifeguards arrive but the lights aren't on.
Not one of the administrators there knows how to turn them on. They need to locate the custodian (who I'm sure makes a lot less money) to turn on the lights.
After an hour long wait the pool is open.
I am not letting my son in. He is pissed.
I made him wait 5 whole minutes before letting him swim. He stuck his butt in the water and got out. It was too cold. Seriously? After pissing around for another 30 minutes he finally got in the water.
This day has just sucked.
This week has been dragging since Tuesday.
So I ask you am I the only mother out there that loves her kids with all her heart but on some days doesn't really like them?
One of those days where nothing goes right.
One of those days when you feel like the worst parent in the entire world.
My day started with my son bursting into tears at school while I was serving breakfast. I'm in the middle of that and he is literally sobbing because he...wait for it...
wait for it....
THINKS. HE. LOOKS. FAT. IN. HIS. SWEATSHIRT.
OMG. Is someone playing a joke on me? Why does my seven year old son care what he looks like in his sweatshirt. He's a 42 pound 1st grader.
Not only was he crying, but he couldn't get a hold of himself. Even after the bell rang he was still crying. He went to class sobbing. His teacher made it a point to talk to me. She wanted bring it to the attention of the school counselor, whom he already visits regularly because he has trouble controlling his emotions. A.K.A. He cries all the time.
I told his teacher that I already mentioned it to the counselor. Apparently the counselor spoke with Little G later in the afternoon. But when I asked him about it he told me he prefers to speak to Miss R about it and not to me.
That hurts...just a little.
Middle daughter has been nothing but belligerent all week. Today was no exception. She has a way of being the bully and the victim at the same time. She has a way of thinking that everyone is against her and nobody loves her.
She screams at me a lot. She tells her dad that she doesn't think I love her.
That hurts...just a little. Okay...maybe a lot.
Oldest daughter won't get out of bed. Oldest daughter doesn't like to shower. Oldest daughter smells like an old gym sock. I beg her every morning to put on deodorant. I ask her repeatedly to address her hygiene. She doesn't. She rolls her eyes at me and tells me she is wearing deodorant. Her clothing smells. Her coat smells.
I feel bad that I miss the toddler version of her.
My evening was suppose to be enjoyable. I was taking the kids to swim at the high school. It was a school function. It was free if you brought a can good.
It was from 6-8:30.
We shoveled some food in our mouths at 5:00; we picked up some friends and we were at the high school at 6 sharp. A miracle.
And the door was locked.
The librarian was there. She organized the event. The high school principal was located but he didn't know anything about it. The pool was closed. There were no lifeguards there. Could we wait while he called some?
More people started to arrive.
It was louder than 3rd grade lunch.
It was crowded and it was hot.
We had been waiting for almost 45 minutes when I see a fifth grade teacher bringing my kid back to me. My son apparently was punching people and may or may not have spit on someone. Fan...frickin...tastic.
The lifeguards arrive but the lights aren't on.
Not one of the administrators there knows how to turn them on. They need to locate the custodian (who I'm sure makes a lot less money) to turn on the lights.
After an hour long wait the pool is open.
I am not letting my son in. He is pissed.
I made him wait 5 whole minutes before letting him swim. He stuck his butt in the water and got out. It was too cold. Seriously? After pissing around for another 30 minutes he finally got in the water.
This day has just sucked.
This week has been dragging since Tuesday.
So I ask you am I the only mother out there that loves her kids with all her heart but on some days doesn't really like them?
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About Me
- kisatrtle
- I'm a 41 year old (gasp) freelance writer, school cafeteria manager, wife and mother. I have three children and one anxious and overweight beagle. I use my blog to make others laugh, to share some cool crafts, to document my lunchlady adventures and to lament about the challenges faced by us all on the journey called life. Thanks for visiting. Please leave some crack...um...I meant some comments.
