Motherhood...umph

So, what have I been up to? Hold on to your seats....

An entire week of snow kept us locked into the house, no school, no outside play, very cabin fever style of living. Over the course of time, we had numerous melt downs, a loss of two bags full of toys, left over chocolate being secretly eaten, but the wrappers left sitting around, and a handful of hair being cut off for no particular reason.

And that was just The Girl.

Me? I was blessed with a cold, a bum wrist and a short temper. At one point I was running through my house naked and dripping wet, having rushed out of my shower to stop an argument. It was the stuff therapy is made of. Liquid gold for future psychoanalysts.

We had our high points. We made a fort out of sheets and pillows, we took naps, we drew pictures and played games. Over the weekend we made it out and went snow tubing. We did manage to have hugs, kisses and heard lots of "I love you," too.

And as soon as it began, the snow week was over. Back to school.

Oh! And today I officially realized that I am not smarter than a 5th grader. As a matter a fact, I am not smarter than a 3rd grader. The Boy brought home geometry math work that I have not seen in almost 20 years...I never learned difference between an isosceles vs right triangle back then and I still did not know it now. He giggled to me as I asked questions and told me how funny it was he was having to teach me now. He was also really proud of himself--FINALLY knowing something his Mom did not.

Thank goodness I teach preschool. Otherwise Iwould tell all parents to keep their kids far, far away from me.

Ways in which I will not win Mother of the Year any time soon...

1. When school was cancelled for snow, I had a Valentine's cake that was now rendered useless since the party was going to be rescheduled. We ate it for breakfast. It was my Bill Cosby moment.

2. Falling asleep for 2 hours while my children are watching tv. I only woke up because The Boy walked in announcing he was "bored" from watching so much tv.

3. Letting The Girl wear her pjs until well after lunch almost any day we are home.

4. Allowing bedrooms to look like a grand war was staged in them....the toys exploded...the causalities were too high to count.

5. Encouraging cooperative play through video games...as long as they are playing nice and not crying, whining, hitting, spitting, or tantrum throwing, they can play for as long as they want.

6. Letting The Boy wear short sleeve on 20 degree days simply because he dressed himself and it managed to match. He can wear a jacket if we go out.

7. Finding out (after the fact) that my children have taken plastic coke bottles, play dough and PUSH PINS and made rather impressive space ships.

8. Applauding that decision by taking pictures and posting on my blog.

Snow bound projects

I have been taking advantage of the snow days. There has been a LOT of sitting around, starring at tv. There has been dancing and singing. There has been minimal cooking, but yet, still lots of dirty dishes. I have been cleaning a bit too. Every single shelf and drawer in my kitchen has been cleaned out in a early wish-it-was-spring cleaning sweep.

Case in point: my spice/baking shelf. Check. It. Out.

Yeah, don't hate me.

It will only look like that for a few weeks anyway.

And here is my canned goods area, all purged of cans dating as far back as 2005.

What else....

There has been Internet surfing and online shopping.

(Lands End has a great outlet area on their website, by the way.)

There has been junk food eating and sleeping in.

There has also been snowman making and wet clothes drying.

But when all else fails, a good craft can pass the time. Here was an easy one I made.

I was inspired by a picture in the Pottery Barn catalog.

This isn't really the picture, but the closest one I could find on the website. See the bottle with the spoons? Love.

And it just so happens that in the back of my pantry was a old paper bag full of silver spoons and forks from my great grandmother. And they were just begging to come out and play.

I already had a couple of cool containers from the after Christmas Target sale. I just scuffed up the shiny lids a bit with sandpaper to make them look more rustic.

The chalkboard label is courtesy of the Dollar Store. (note: bad cursive writing is courtesy of my 4th grade teacher. ) These are wall stickers with a chalk board surface.

Simply cut into whatever size/shape you want and presto chango! (Pardon the mess on the table. My kids were water coloring at the same time.

They look right at home in my grandmother's hutch.

What have you been doing on snow days to pass the time?

And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow

Snow kinda gets on my nerves. I mean, sure it's pretty and all. I enjoy making snowmen, snow angels and snowballs like any other person. But it keeps me trapped in my house. It makes me cold--I mean really, really cold. It attaches to my children's shoes, making large, slippery, filthy puddles everywhere. Under any other circumstance something keeping me prisoner in my house and forcing me to clean over and over again while shivering from hypothermia setting in would be considered cruel and unusual punishment.

All I can think of is The Shining. Thank goodness my garage is a hot mess and I can't reach my ax.

I do have plans though. A couple of projects I hope to tackle this weekend.

I'll keep you updated.

Unless I am at the psychiatric hospital. I am pretty sure they don't have an Internet connection there.

My bad

OK I have totally, completely, utterly, embarrassingly been avoiding, ignoring, forgetting, shunning this blog. Why? Well, life since July has been...strange.

I want to come back--if you will have me. I know that I am a pitiful excuse of a blogger...a sham, really. But I promise, if you give me another chance, I will do my best to pour my heart out again and again for your amusement. I solemnly swear to laugh at myself and encourage you to do so. To share my successes AND my failures.

Well, isn't that typical. In the middle of my heartfelt, gut wrenching begging I was interrupted by The Girl screaming. Apparently she had hurt her foot (for the second time today) by stepping on something she should not. No worries--shrugging it off--getting back to writing. Ok where was I?

Phone call. Yeah. I can't remember what I was going to say. I have lost the mojo. OK Oprah is now on. It is her last season. And her birthday episode... Distraction is evil. Now I am giving in...Oprah just got cute new puppies. Someone stop me.

I love you guys, please say you will have me back. Call me. Seriously. 'kay?

My wish

With a thoughtful look, The Girls says to me, "When I grow up, I want to be a pig." When I asked her why she only said, "I like pigs!" Like I was ridiculous for even asking.

I did not have the heart to explain to her that is not how life works. That through a series of compromises and regrets we rarely end up in the job we set out to do. And that adults usually settle, content, but still not living the life they pictured as a child. I could not tell her that because I still want my kids to feel the magic. I want my kids to still believe that catching fireflies and freezing them can make good money. That one day they could grow up and fly a plane or walk on the ceiling or beat up the bad guys with laser guns. I want them to believe there is some magical tiny lady who actually wants to pay high dollar for their tiny baby teeth. I adore the fact they light up when they find a penny and imagine the outrageously priced toy they can now get with it. I don't want them to loose that childhood innocence just yet. If we can just hold on a little bit longer...because once it is gone, you can never quite get it back.

So, if my daughter wants to be a pig when she grows up, that is all right by me.

Heck, she can be the next Queen of Sheba if she wants.

Just so long as she always dares to dream and believe in the magic of childhood...

Breastfeeding is hard

*Warning* This is not for the faint at heart.

Fine, don't say I didn't warn you.

Breastfeeding is hard. I know it seems like the most natural thing--what our bodies are made to do. You make milk, you stick a baby on there, how complicated can it be? Unless you have done it , you have no idea. It sucks! Your breasts--they have a mind of their own, ok? They swell up; they ache; they get rock hard (and I mean rock hard); they have veins popping out of them like they turned into the Incredible Hulk; they freaking L.E.A.K. when you least expect it, they can shoot milk across the room even though your sweet baby is sitting in your lap, mouth agape in front of you (and more than once, milk shot right into my baby's eyes). Did I mention your nipples stretch out like an inch or more thanks to the sucking action of the baby and/or your freakish breast pump. And lest us not forget, they itch like a word that rhymes with witch.

Breastfeeding is hard.

Even if your baby takes to feeding like a champ, it is hard. But those whose babies do not have a great latch (like my first) or prefer the bottle (like my second) have extra challenges.

Breastfeeding requires nerves of steel.

I have a friend who is working night and day to breastfeed her child as I type. I have another friend who breastfed her baby until he was 3. I have yet anther friend who thought nothing of wiping her nipply out anytime, any place, without shield to feed her baby. I was never that strong.

I did have my breast pump--a double pump to speed up the process. Boy, that was interesting. And a bit painful. And freaky to see since everything was in clear plastic. But nothing I could not live with knowing about myself.

Eventually, my babies weaned. My breast pads were tossed in the trash. My pump--sold on ebay to the highest bidder. It was just a memory. But today I had a run in with a woman who reminded me how hard breastfeeding can be.

I ate Mexican for lunch. A refried bean taco salad to be exact. And by the time I was at preschool to pick up The Girl, it hit me. I took off for the potty like nobody's business. Now, our preschool has a really nice potty. It is big, it is clean and it has--get this--a couch! Right there in the bathroom! No kidding. It also has a really nice, curtained off area for nursing moms--complete with rocking chairs. That bathroom is nicer than the break room at most companies. It is set up for quiet, peaceful, reflection. And here I came.

So, I burst in and run to the potty and realize that there is a woman who has set up her breast pump and is ready to pump. But I cannot wait--I have to go. So, I do what any human being would do and I go. From my stall I can hear the pump turning on. My mind takes me back to those days. The pump is not comfortable, but is a tool. When it is on, it literally pulls your nipple and sucks out the milk out of your body. And it feels about like it sounds. The storage bags even come with a slot to hold your baby's picture so that you can "let down" your milk easier without your baby with you. I never had to use it. I always pumped at home. But here is this Mom--no baby--at work, pumping. And here I am, in the stall close by, making horrible noises and smells. (Remember, not for the faint at heart here.) I tried to hold it in people. I really did. I even thought about apologizing from the stall, but could not figure out how to say that and make us both not feel more uncomfortable than we already did. I knew she was trying to relax and get into that zone--the milk zone. And me and my poop had interfered. The farts did not help. *sigh*

Needless to say, I cleaned up asap and left as fast as I had entered, all the while silently apologizing for the scent stamp I had left behind.

Like I said, breastfeeding is hard--really hard. You have to do all sort of things you never in your life imagined you would do, like have a machine clamped to you left breast in a public restroom while strangers were relieving themselves. But you do it. Cause that is what being a parent is all about.