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Friday, January 31, 2014

Something Wicked This Way Blows...

My children are snugglers.  This makes me exceedingly happy, although cramped as our couch was not meant to hold two adults and three tall and lanky children all at once (is any, really?).  In any case, they always want to snuggle.  While watching TV.  While reading a book.  While playing games.

And at bed time.

Sleeping with the kids has always been a constant bone of contention for them.  They're fascintated with the idea of snuggling with Mommy in bed...mainly because they've never had the pleasure.  See: long ago the hubs and I instated the rule that no kids would join us in bed; mainly because we've heard horror stories about how difficult it is to get them to return to their own.

We've all had countless conversations about this:
"Mommy, will you sleep with me?"
"No, baby.  I have to sleep with Daddy."
"Why?"
 "Well, because, he's a chicken.  He's terrified to sleep alone.  I have to keep him safe."

This seemed to pacify the children who have always found it funny that their father needs to snuggle their mother because he's too scaredy-chicken to sleep solo.  And it's worked so far...until....I fed him brussel sprouts and other noxious foods.  I casually mentioned that I was fearful for my olfactory health.  I threatened to banish him from our bed.

"But Mommy!  You can't send him to sleep on the couch, because then his butt will kill us!"

"YEAH!  And since he can't sleep down here on the couch...you should sleep with me!  That way, Daddy can stink himself out...by himself."

"Don't let his butt kill you!  Sleep with me!"

And then the obligatory, "Daddy's butt stinks!"

Touche, kids...Touche.  And then I got to thinking...if they want it so bad, they must need it.  And then I got to thinking some more: I already sleep like crap...what can it hurt.  And then I think, what if I've not been protecting me but them...from the light breathing (that my husband adamantly and incorrectly calls snoring)?  And then I thought, what if they end up being spooners (BTW, while I love the awake spoon as much as anyone, when it's time to slumber - stay your hot self on your own sweaty side of the bed), and I end up harming a child in my need to get away from their slumbered death grip?  And worse: what if I can't handle it and creep out of bed in the night...will that create lasting psychological issues?  And...

So, even though terrified, I'm going to take one for the team and snuggle my babies to sleep this week.  Life is too short.  Wish us luck.

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Another Day...Another Gray...

So, today's my birthday!  It's always been my favorite day of the year, but that is because I believe your birthday (and not Christmas) is for unadulterated present whoring...and worship.  Normally, I require my husband also take the day off work to participate in my gratuitous bday adoration.

This year, the two presents I need the most will probably be presents to myself: hair dye & zit cream.  It seems that these two phenomena have started taking over my life.  I have more pimples now than I did as a teenager.  I'm 36-years-old, for Christ's sake, shouldn't I be well past this?!?  The worst part?  It's not just a blemish here or there...these things are monstrous.

It's as if the Gods of Adolescence were like, "Hey, this one got through fairly unscathed...let's make her adult life a nightmare!"  Can you recommend me a acne cream with wrinkle reduction?  I'm certain I can't be the only one and that there has to be a market for that kind of goop, right?

And the grays.  This may be the worst.  Don't mistake, I don't mind getting old.  Not at all.  [Fact is, I still imagine myself twenty-ish and pretty fabulous, but a bit more broken in and more wise]

What I do mind is my hair changing color.  Ok, ok...I know I change it enough on my own that I've recently decided to take a break to see what color my natural color even is (and to simultaneously do gray hair recon.), but this is so lame.  These hairs are not just gray, oooh, no no.  They're white.  Shock white.  And they stick out of my head in Bride of Frankenstein fashion.  They're kinky and bejiggidy and unable to be tamed or properly flat ironed...and most sit residing at the part I've kept for these past 36 years.

I've tried pulling these suckers out.  Every time I do that, the problem increases exponentially, and I've started to become a conspiracy theorist.  Alright, already...a bigger conspiracy theorist.  I think there is a direct link between my white hairs and my zits!  I yank a white hair, two pop back in it's place...followed closely by a white-headed disaster (usually strategically placed in the middle of my forehead or nose, or their favorite campsite: my chin).  I pop the zit and cover it with make up, and now I note two more white hairs.  EHHHH!

It really is only a matter of time until I'm found wandering the aisles of Wegman's, wearing an old lady plastic rain bonnet and muttering to myself about the evils of Oil of Olay.

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

What Did You Say?

2013 was the year of the lunatic.  This year saw all my kids in school.  All my kids being driven to and fro between piano lessons and swim lessons and various other engagements.  It provided our first family vacation in four years.  There was family drama.  We celebrated our tenth year of marriage, and our 15th year with each other.  Our kids' quirkiness came out in leaps and bounds.  It all left me exhausted. And happy.  And frustrated.  And thoughtful.

This year I noticed and listened to my children yell at each other.  I heard them yell room to room.  I witnessed them yelling at me and their father.  I heard their father yelling back.  I stepped outside myself and saw the freak-show I could become.  And I thought to myself, 'This is not what I want to be teaching them.'  This year is going to be different...GODDAMNIT!  [ugh: I even yell on here!]

I've enlisted the help of my family.  I'm going to pretend I'm soft spoken.  I'm going to breathe deeply and I'm going to walk into the other room, or walk from the room - depending on the situation.

No more, "HEY!  TURN THAT DOWN!"

Never again with the, "WHAT ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH WERE YOU THINKING?!?!"

Screamed, "WTF..." at kids, the husband, the cats, extended family, other people's stupidity, shall not come to pass.  Ok, maybe not on the other people's stupidity...I am only human after all!

Daunting, I know.  But hey, I've figured out and mastered most other things in life I've put my mind to...I refuse to allow this one to be any different.  I'll probably fail a million times, but as long as I try again, there will always be one less shouting match had.

I've come up with replacement strategies:  Leaving my kitchen (maybe a few burned dinners will drive this point home) to get the TV, radio or child volume lowered with a tap on the shoulder and a quietly spoken, "Please turn that down?"  When any number of daily atrocities committed by the small humans in my house is discovered; kneeling down to their height and calmly asking, "What happened.  Can I have the full story, including your thoughts on why you did that/it happened?"  And when all else fails, I'm going to take a deep breath and walk away.

2014, it is my goal to be asked, "What? What did you just say, Mommy?"  When this happens more often than not, I'll consider myself successful...and I'll then have my goal of 2015 - ensuring that no one had lasting hearing damage...