Mommiedaze

A List Because I Have a Bunch of Random Things to Say that Don’t Merit Their Own Posts

1. We were all sick with a cold this weekend. First little David, then my husband and finally me.

2. I was so tired that I let little David eat Doritos and Popcorn for dinner last night. I am sure this will prevent him from getting into Yale someday. Which is OK, because we can’t afford Yale.

3. Little David and I are feeling better. My husband is still deathly ill.

4. My sister-in-law is here visiting all the way from Australia. I really hope she doesn’t catch this junk from us. I’ll feel terrible is she’s sick during her trip.

5. We have two Cocker Spaniels. The male, Joey, has suddenly become attached to me at the hip. He follows me everywhere, and if I sit, he sits on me. He even sleeps with me. He never used to get in bed with us. And he snores. One of the reasons I’m so tired. Anyway, he did this to me the last time I was pregnant too. It’s weird. It’s like he just knows. Do pregnant women smell different or something? I’ve heard that dogs have been able to diagnose cancer in people simply by sniffing them. I guess I could have saved the 15 bucks I spent on a pregnancy test.

6. We have snow on the ground for the first time this year. And the first Lake Effect Snow Advisory of the season was issued today. Three to five inches by 7 tonight they say. I don’t know why they bother to issue an advisory for that around here. Five inches of snow is just a normal winter day in West Michigan. People don’t even slow down on the freeway for five inches of snow.

7. There are only 38 days left until Christmas.

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The June Cleaver Experiment: Day Five (The Conclusion)

This was the last day. I’ll be back to jeans and flip-flops tomorrow. Well, until it snows, and I have to start wearing sneakers. But I’ll hold on to the flip-flops as long as I can.

I will be glad to be in casual wear most of the time. And I really look forward to sitting on the couch in my PJs watching the morning news and sipping coffee again. No more housework in heels either. But I do think I’ll start dressing up a little more often when I go out, because it’s just plain fun. And maybe at home once in a while for the hubby.

June Cleaver was a fictional character. When Leave It to Beaver was on the air in it’s original run women were already starting to wear pants. And I doubt that women who did wear dresses all day did all their cooking and cleaning in high heels and pearls.

But June was a representation of that era’s ideal wife and mother.

We have expectations for wives and mother’s today too. But I think it’s gone in the opposite direction. Once we were portrayed as serene, well-dressed, homemaking-experts. Today women are often portrayed as frazzled, frumpy, over-scheduled moms who can’t quite seem to get it together. And far from serene, mom is made out to always be frustrated and tired.

Once you were either a mom or you had a career. Then we discovered we could do both. Then some of us decided we’d rather just stay home. And then some of you started working from home. And now it’s OK to choose what’s best for you and your family. Being a mom went from bottom of the totem pole to “the hardest,  most important job in the world.”

But it’s like society decided that if we were going to make motherhood an important position, then we shouldn’t be happy about it.

So we have all these snarky mom blogs that talk about drinking martinis just to get through the afternoon. And we have TV shows like Old Christine that make mom look like a loser, and Desperate Housewives that makes us all out to be headcases.

Then there’s the stereotypes. The soccer mom who doesn’t know who she is anymore because she spends all her time catering to everyone else’s needs. The mousy mom who let herself go. The working mom who feeds her family fast food every night, and never cleans her house. The lonely, miserable single mom.

So instead of the high standards of June Cleaver we have these really low expectations. And I wonder if the low expectations don’t feed on themselves? We certainly can’t try to achieve perfection like June. It’s not realistic, and we would only end up frustrated by our failures. But instead of pressured to be perfect, it’s almost as if we’re pressured to be screw-ups. Like it’s not OK to just be  good mom, and love it.

But we can do a little better than what society seems to expect from us.

What if we just decided instead of being harried we would be happy? Take a few minutes for yourself and put on some lipstick. Say no to one more PTA committee, and spend the evening doing something fun with your family. Enlist the family to pitch in on the cooking and cleaning, and take all the pressure off yourself.

Embrace motherhood, and embrace yourself. Do it your way, and the way it makes you happy. No matter what anyone else expects or doesn’t expect from you.

Thanks to everyone who followed along this week. It was a lot fun to read your comments!

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All By Myself

I have a dilemma much like I had last Saturday, only this time my husband isn’t even here.

I. Am. Completely. Alone.

Well, unless you count the dogs, and they aren’t very good conversationalists. Though I do talk to them quite a lot. So much so that my husband says he doesn’t listen to half of what I say, because he never knows if I am talking to him or the dogs. I think if he listened to EVERYTHING I say, he would be able to discern when I am talking to him, and when I am talking to the dogs. Rarely is he the one I am speaking to when I say, “Come here puppy wuppie. Oh, behind the ear? Does that feel good? Scratchy, scratchy. Good boy.”

We have two cats also, but I don’t like cats. Very unsympathetic creatures. I would never waste my time talking to them.

As I was saying, I am all by myself. My son is at his other grandparents’ tonight. I guess it’s grandparents’ week. I didn’t get the memo, but it appears to be so.

(Ouch! As I’m sitting here, in my house, on my couch, typing this, some strange little bug just flew over, landed on my arm and bit me. Not a mosquito. Weird.)

My husband is in Indiana recording a CD with the southern gospel quartet, The Helmsmen, that he sings with. I think I have failed to mention the fact the he sings with such a group until now. It’s a fairly new development in our lives, and though I’ve meant to, I never gotten around to it. So here’s their site and here’s some videos on YouTube. See the problem is that while I think my husband is wildly talented, and I am wild about him, I am not wild about Southern Gospel Music. David Crowder is much more my speed. And just to clarify, we are not southern. We live in Michigan which is about as northern as you can get. Why that particular genre is specified by geographic location, even though many of it’s musicians aren’t actually from that part of the country, I don’t know.

It’s eerie to be all alone. Not that I’m scared. I do have two ferocious Cocker Spaniels to protect me. It’s eerie because since my son was born, I can only recall about three other times that I have been home alone. Usually if my son is gone and I’m home, my husband is here, because we’ve sent him off so that we can spend time together. And when my husband is gone, my son is always here.

I don’t have to be quiet and turn down the TV and tip-toe to the bathroom, so that my son, who’s room is right across the hall, doesn’t wake up. I keep catching myself listening for him. Then I remember there’s nothing to listen for. I was going to go down to the basement — that’s where I keep my husband — to ask him a question. (O.K., I don’t keep him there. That’s where he escapes from me and my crazy dog conversations. And his computer is down there too. He did not have the foresight to purchase a laptop as I did.) But then I remembered he’s not there either.

It’s actually kind of a nice feeling to be alone. I can do what even I want. I can watch whatever I want. I don’t have to do anything for anyone. Ahhhhhh! That’s me letting out a big relaxed sigh.

I’m not sure what to do wtih myself actually. I haven’t had so many options in quite a long time. I do have a chick flick from NetFlix that’s been sitting on top of the DVD player for a month. Probably should watch that and send it back. Or maybe I’ll just sit here and enjoy the silence. To tell the truth, I wasted most of the time already reading blogs and writing this.

O.K. Well, I’m gonna get this party started.

Shhh…. Can you hear that?

I don’t hear anything either.

Whoot!

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Slash your Grocery Bills with Angel Food Ministries

Gas prices are still going up. Food prices are on the rise. We may have to tap the kid’s college fund to heat the house this winter. (Ha! As if there’s a college fund. I haven’t finished paying off my higher education yet.) If I think about it all too long, I get a little dizzy and have visions of the world coming to an end.

When it comes to gas and energy costs, all you can really do is stop traveling, and turn down the thermostat. But a family still has to eat. The good news is that there is some relief when it comes to food costs.

Angel Food Ministries is a non-profit organization that provides affordable groceries to families all over the country. For $30 dollars you can purchase one unit of food that is enough to feed a family of four for about a week. The actual retail value of the food is between $60 and $75. The menu is different every month, and includes both fresh and frozen items. You can purchase as many you units as you want, and there are no income restrictions.

We started participating in the Angel Food program last fall when I learned about it from my MOPS group. It’s saved us quite a bit of money, and I was pleasantly surprised by the items on each month’s menu. Everything from steak to chicken to pork chops. Even convenient and kid friendly foods like tater tots, mac & cheese and chicken nuggets.

Since the menu does change each time, there are months that the packages include more foods we like, and some months when everything doesn’t always fit out tastes. We take advantage of the months when the menu is full of foods that are popular at our house by ordering several units, and filling up our deep freezer and cupboards. Then the next month we might order less. We do still have to buy a few things at the market each week, but we definitely spend a lot less on food purchases.

I know some people might be reluctant to participate, because it sounds too much like a charity. But here’s the thing. Anyone that wants to save money on groceries can participate. It doesn’t matter if you make ten-thousand or a hundred-thousand a year. We could still get by doing all our shopping at the supermarket, but it doesn’t make sense when we can do this, and free up extra cash for any number of things each month.

Now, there are people who participate in the Angel Food program, because it’s the only way they can feed their family every month. There’s nothing wrong with seeking out help when you need it. Besides saving money, I feel like by participating we’re helping to support the program to make sure it’s around for the people who really need it to make ends meet each month. There are also quite a few people who order Angel Food packages to give to someone else who is in need. Thirty dollars a month is a pretty do-able amount for many of us to put toward helping out another family.

I really encourage you to go to the Angel Food website and check it out. You can put in your zip code and find a program near you. Many are located at churches, but you don’t have to attend the church to participate. Give it a try, and see if it works for your family. Even if you don’t participate, spread the word. You never know who might benefit from the program.

Can’t find a program near you? Go here to see how you can get one started in your community.

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College Reunion

I spent yesterday afternoon and with two of my best friends from college and their families. You can visit their blogs here and here. The three of us girls, (Can we still call ourselves “girls” 10 years later?) roomed together one year. We all married our college sweethearts, and have young children now. One friend lives in Florida, and it was seven years since we’d all been together last. We had a great time catching up, meeting each other’s kids, and watching them play together.

We met at a restaurant, and I have to tell you, I had second thoughts when I realized between all of us we have four kids, ages six and younger, and three of them are boys. In my mind I pictured all the boys jousting with forks, leaping over tables, and trying to tie up the little girl with the tablecloth. But the kids we’re just fine, and no one got hurt. Well, except my husband who had a cup of milk spilled in his lap, and somehow sustained a cut on his finger.

After dinner we went to a nearby park where the kids could play and the moms could talk. We kind of left the dads on their own to watch the kids while we chatted. But it had been seven years. The boys had lots of fun running around together. My friend’s little girl is the sweetest thing. Such a contrast to those rambunctious boys. She was so lady-like, sitting with her little hands folded in her lap. A little too young to get involved in the boy’s hi jinx, she just smiled and laughed at them. I’m sure she was quietly wondering what on earth was wrong with those crazy boys.

Here’s some photos. I’m photographically challenged, so it turns out that I had the camera on the wrong setting the entire time. Sorry if they’re a little dark and fuzzy. (I also need to upgrade my old 3.1 mega pixel camera. I’m saving my pennies. Literally. I have a change jar that’s my new camera fund.)

My friend with her little girl. Her husband had to work that day so he couldn’t join us.

My friend from Florida with her husband and two boys. You’ll notice that the older boy is giving his mother bunny ears. I think he got in a little trouble for that.

Now I’m actually going to post a picture of myself. Something I try not to do, because I never like pictures of myself. Here’s the three of us “girls”. I’m on the far right. (Is 33 too young for me to get a chin lift?)

And all the kids. See how the girl is sitting so nicely while the boys are just all over the place? My son is the kid in the orange shirt.

And finally, a group shot. My husband is the guy on the far right. (Please tell me that this a bad angle, the camera adds 10 pounds, and my hips really aren’t the wide. I’m slouching. Why am I slouching? See, this is why I don’t do pictures.)

Well, my poor photography skills and body image aside, we had a great day. Hopefully it’s not another seven years before we all see each other again. And next time, I think I’ll bring my own lighting and professional photographer.

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All is Too Quiet on the Mommie Front

I woke up on my own this morning at 7:30.

I went out to a quiet living room, fixed some coffee and oatmeal.

I watched the news and actually heard what they were saying.

I caught up on all my blog reading.

And now, at 11 a.m., I am officially bored and missing him.

My son went to Indiana last night after the fireworks to spend a few days with his grandparents. I was looking forward to today. I thought I’d sleep as long as I pleased, but was bright-eyed and bushy tailed at 7:30. (My husband however has taken full advantage and is still snoozing.)

I thought I’d like the peaceful morning. No spilled cereal to wipe up. There’s no potty training to tackle. I don’t even have any housework to do since I did it all before the 4th.

I thought maybe I’d go some place fun, but can’t think of anywhere that I especially want to go.

Oh, when my husband wakes up, if he doesn’t sleep straight through ’til tomorrow, I’ll enjoy spending some rare alone time with him. And I will feel relaxed and refreshed tomorrow. Ready to face another day of potty training.

But I still miss my son. There was no big bear hug and slobbery kiss this morning. No, “Mommy, I love you!” I haven’t heard any laughter or delighted shrieking. I feel all out of sorts not having to my usual mommie responsibilities to do. I can’t remember what life was like with out him.

I remember when my son was a baby and there were hundreds of feedings and diaper changes and very little sleeping, I was thrilled to leave him in the care of a trusted someone else, even for an hour. I would watch the clock and count the minutes until I could escape the grind of new motherhood.

Then, one day, that little blob started to smile back when I would smile. And now almost four years later we have full-blown conversations, and he makes jokes and he teases and even comforts and empathizes sometimes. Yes, babies are sweet and precious, but I love these pre-school years. It’s amazing to watch his little personality develop. It seems like every day I learn something new about what he does or doesn’t like, or what makes him tick. We don’t just have a one-sided relationship anymore. When I say, “I love you,” he says it back, and means it.

He’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll be telling him to stop jumping on the couch and chasing the dogs with a Nerf bat. It won’t be quiet, and there will be plenty of messes to clean up. But sometime tomorrow, in the midst of all the craziness, he’ll stop for a minute and flash me one of those big, bright, sparkly smiles that fills my heart heat so full it could burst. And it will all be worth it.

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Potty Party

I’m beginning to wonder if David will go to Kindergarten in Pull-Ups. (How big do those things come?) He’s turns three and a half tomorrow, so I resolved that this is the week we are going to conquer the toilet, once and for all.

Strategic planning for the bathroom blitzkrieg began yesterday. I took David shopping so that he could pick out some new “big boy” underwear. He chose SpongeBoob SpongeBob, of course. I hate barely tolerate SpongeBob, but Bob Le Sponge (That is what they call him in France. France! Even the French watch SpongeBob? How does that translate?) seems to posses motivating powers I do not. I told him if he wanted to wear the SB underwear, he had to go potty in the toilet and not in his pants. It’s working, so far. He kept them clean for seven hours before having a small accident. The most progress yet.

I asked David over and over this morning if he needed to go, and he kept saying he couldn’t. Suddenly, around 10 o’clock, he announced that, “My pee came back!” We ran to the bathroom, and he proceeded to do his thing. Then he proudly announced, “I peed standing up, like a big man!” and gave me a high five.

Just before nap time I coerced him to try again, and we had more success. After that I tried to put a Pull-Up on him so he wouldn’t wet the bed. Bad idea. He didn’t want to give up the SB underwear. I told him he could wear the SB underwear over his Pull-Up. He didn’t like that either. He ended up going to sleep with three layers; SB underwear, a Pull-Up and then another pair of SB underwear over the Pull Up. Oh, well. Whatever works.

I first started potty training with David when he turned two. He cried and screamed and refused to co-operate. More than one person told me that the best thing to do was back off, and try again in a month or two. Well, I’ve been doing that for a year and a half. Every other month of so I’d try again for a few days. And after a day or two, when both of us were completely frustrated, I’d give up — again.

I tried almost every method out there. I asked other moms for advice, I read books, looked up information on the Internet. I came across some methods that were completely insane. One included the practice of talking to your child with primal “caveman” like sounds in order to communicate with them on their level. (”My son is toilet trained, but Ugh is the only word he knows.” Um, no.) We resorted to bribery several times. Money, candy, toys, you name it. But nothing motivated him.

It’s not a matter of can. David goes hours between wet Pull-Ups. He knows when he has to go, and he knows how to go. It’s a matter of will. He’s stubborn. It’s not his idea, so he doesn’t want to do it. He’s not going to “tell me when he’s ready,” as many “experts” says he will. That would be like like surrendering to him.

The “experts” also say you shouldn’t force it, but I don’t think any of them had a kid with David’s relentless resolve. Tell him he can’t get down from the table until he finishes his broccoli, and he’ll sit there until bed time just to spite you. Oh sure, when he’s heading up a grass roots effort some day to effect important social change that tenacity will make him a great leader. But now, it just makes me a frustrated mom.

I’m tired. I’m tired of the looks I get from nursery workers, and other moms when they discover he’s three and a half and not potty trained. I’m tired of lifting a 40 pound kid onto the changing table. I’m tired of spending $20 bucks on a pack of disposable training pants. I’m not waiting anymore.

So this week I’m firing with both barrels. I’m using a little bit of force strong suggestion with an entire arsenal of motivation. We bought the SB underwear. And when he goes potty on the toilet he gets a sticker to put on a chart. When he gets seven stickers, he gets a dollar. There are also a pair of roller skates sitting on the top shelf in the bathroom that will be his the day he decides to poop in the toilet. (Something he so far has refused to do entirely.) That’s the plan.

There’s also unplanned “on-the-fly” motivation. This afternoon he was playing with some wooden blocks. He recently discovered all the wonderful ways glue can be used, and asked me to glue two of the blocks together. Normally I would say no to such a random request. Desperation causes you to do strange things. I said, “If you go use the potty, I’ll glue them together.” It worked. He used the potty, and now two of his blocks are permanently stuck together with Super Glue.

Of all the jobs I’ve had to do as mom so far, this potty training thing certainly is the most difficult. I never thought I’d be locked in a battle of wills with a three year old, and be the one on the loosing side. I will not surrender this time. Even if I have to dress up like SpongeBob and dance a jig in the front yard tomorrow to get him to poop in the toilet.

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