Month: October 2016

Baby Girl is adorable. And she totally knows it. She can absolutely kill me with hilariousness when I’m supposed to be mad at her. She can make Dada, Sissy, Grandma, Grandpa just keel over with laughter. Her latest thing is saying “no no no no!” in a sing-song voice while shaking her finger at one of us, or else it’s a “uh uhhhh!” in the same sing-song. I can guess that she learned this fun little thing at school. The teachers must do that when one of the kids is doing something not so acceptable.

So of course when I try to reprimand her and she does this, I can’t help but laugh because it is just too funny. My brother and I grew up laughing and having a great time with my parents. We were an Army family so we moved around a lot and spent a lot of time together. Once my brother was in college and my Dad was in some country or another being a Commander of Troops or whatever, my Mom and I hung out together all the time. We spent a lot of time laughing. It was a great way to grow up. Even at family dinners when we were grown, but not yet married, we could rarely get through a dinner without someone in tears from laughing or snorting tea out their nose. Unlike a lot of teenage girls, my mom and I got along great. I did not do all the rebellious things a lot of girls do. Moms of girls who ride horses listen up! I was WAY TOO BUSY riding horses to do any of that adolescent crap. I considered it way beneath me even then. I pretty much thought most of my peers were seriously immature and dumb. I’m sure most of that came from all my time spent at the barn, learning how to be a responsible person.

Because I am an older first time mom, my own mom doesn’t remember much from when I was really small. This has its advantages because I just tell everyone I was a perfect angel child and my mom agrees. I’ll ask her if I was as difficult as Baby Girl is now and she’ll say NO! We all know that Baby Girl is a difficult kid. She’s independent, stubborn and persistent. On the other hand, all these things also describe myself so I think my mom A) either doesn’t remember or has blocked it out or B) was a lot more strict with me than I am with Baby Girl. I have such a hard time being strict! I want to give in and give her everything she wants. I don’t want to do this because it’s easier – I want to do this because she has my heart wrapped around her little finger and I can’t stand to see her upset. It’s a problem. The main problem is that by giving in I perpetuate an even bigger problem of the “I want it-itis” and the “Cry til I get it” tantrum.

Surely some of you other moms out there have this gooey mushy heart that melts problem? I actually thought I’d be a VERY strict mom. I thought I’d be a “you walk the line or else” type of mom. I’ll bet most of my friends and family would agree that this is what they expected. But when you’ve been through a miscarriage and infertility issues, it’s like you just can’t not give her what she wants. Because she gave you the thing you wanted most. So you owe her. Which I know is not true – she has no idea that she was a miracle baby. But I know it.

So learning to say No to her is a process. One I haven’t perfected yet. It’s slightly easier when she’s having a huge tantrum in the kitchen over wanting yet another bag of fruit chews. I should have made her a fruit chew costume for Halloween. I’ll bet she would have happily worn it. As it is, I have yet to get her in the Lion costume I bought her.

And the thing is, she makes me laugh most of the time. And I want to laugh! I want her to laugh! Just like my family did. I need to hypnotize my mom to get her to remember some specific details because she was (and is) an excellent mom. She had lines and you better not cross it. Yet we laughed. How did she do it? My brother and I were respectful and kind and mostly non-rebellious children and teenagers (me more than my Bro of course – I was the perfect one). She drew the line and we toed it. I can only remember a handful of times when I crossed that line and you better believe the repercussions made an impression. But the laughter was constant as well. Even when things went south, a lot of the time laughter fixed them.

I’ve got to figure out this mystery. How to be strict enough that she turns out respectful and kind, yet let the laughter be the thing she remembers most. I cherish my childhood. I cherish the time with my parents and my brother. Even as I now have a husband and two girls, I miss those days back when. My greatest wish for Baby Girl is that her childhood inspires her enough that she wishes to pass along the laughter to her children too.

I was a terrible mother today. It is never a good thing when you start your day with a tantrum at 5:30 a.m. Baby Girl does not have a consistent wake up time each morning. Sometimes it is 5:30, sometimes 6 or 6:30. If she wakes up at 4 something (which happens quite often) I can convince her it’s still sleepy time and get her back to bed. 5:30 am, though, is NOT still sleepy time in her opinion. It is Mouse Time. Meaning we will go watch Mouse on the EE (TV as I explained once before) or ELSE. The ELSE meaning “throw myself on the floor and scream and cry until you give in” because for God’s sake it’s 5:30 am and I don’t have the strength to fight it. Usually I am still dead asleep at 5:30 am. Her crying Mama into the blackness that is 5:30 am is like a sledgehammer to my head.

This morning, at 5:30, I invited her into my own bed thinking that maybe she would snuggle in under my covers and we could all go back to sleep. She would not even consider the suggestion. The tantrum started before I could even get the words all the way out. NO! NO! Nooooooooo!!!!!! Mouse!! MOUSE!!! Somehow she manages to whine and cry and roll on the floor and say these things with the paccy still in her mouth. It’s actually fairly impressive. So I thought, ok, I’ll just ignore her and get in my bed. Maybe she’ll join me. Ha. No luck. Still whining, screaming, crying and writhing on the floor 15 mins later. If there were an Olympic sport in temper tantrumming Baby Girl would surely be in the medals.

I give in. Of course I do. The only other option would be to shut her door and wait it out, but honestly nobody is going back to sleep anyway so why bother? So I pick her up. Carry her down the hall. Set her sweetly in “her” chair where she promptly demands her Milk. I turn on the EE, get the milk and lay comatose on the couch for an hour. Of course actual sleeping on the couch is not going to happen. Once Baby Girl is awake, there is no way Mama is going to sleep. If I did I would awake to a mess in my house that would rival Hurricane whatever down in Haiti. Any time Dada is in charge somehow the Hurricane always starts before he realizes what is happening …. because he isn’t paying attention 100% at all times with his whole head, ears, nose and eyes like I tell him to! Her favorite thing is to turn every surface into a coloring book.

Anyways… so this entire day I have been a cranky, grumpy, yes, alright – bitchy, Mama. And to make it even better Baby Girl has also been cranky, whiny and helpless. She will literally lay on the floor and whine that she can’t “weach” something that is not one foot away. If she would just GET UP OFF THE FLOOR she could Weach it all day long. What is that about? If I walk away she just yells louder. And then there’s the clinginess. Mama mama mama mama OH MY GOD mama mama mama mama!!!!! Pick me up! Let me climb all over you and pull on your shirt! I wanna crawl into your lap and whine while you work! I can’t be away from you for one single second! Mama mama mama mama!!! I eat!! I hungry!! Sit! Sit! Sit! Outside! Inside! Mama mama mama!

So I escaped. As soon as hubby woke up I retreated into my bedroom and went back to bed. She cried of course. She wanted to be in the bed with me (because it wasn’t 5:30 am) and Dada had to remove her and shut the door while she screamed. Y’all it is really hard to take that guilt trip. But I was at the end of my short rope today so I did it. And as payback of course I had terrible dreams while I napped. Waking up left me even more annoyed with myself and the world in general, so I decided that I should go do some work outside. Maybe it would improve my mood. So once again Dada had to pick her off of my leg and hold her while she screamed so I could leave the house. Months ago (maybe even a year ago?) Hubby had to tell me that she only screams for about 30 seconds after I actually leave and then she’s perfectly fine. I did not believe him at first but eventually realized that what he said was true. It lessens the guilt trip slightly.

All day long today I have been evading that Baby Girl. Went to pick Sissy up at school and told her that I had to teach lessons that afternoon so Baby Girl was all hers. This never works as I want it to, however, as Baby Girl loves being with her Sissy for about ten minutes and then reverts back to mama mama mama mama! Came in after lessons and got Baby Girl happily eating some dinner and snuck off to take a solitary bath since Sissy was there to watch her. Less than five minutes later there is Baby Girl screaming at the door, and then in the bathroom with me, since she can now manage the door handle. And then in the bathtub with me. Seriously.

Then trying to get her PJ’s on and in the bed. To hell with our bedtime ritual tonight. After only five minutes of whining and crying she is asleep. Baby Girl is tired, too, and now I feel guilty for being such a terrible mama today.

And I’m all out of wine.

We are a family of achievers. My immediate core family growing up – Mom, Dad, Brother, Me – we like to get shit done. We feel like the day is wasted if shit doesn’t get done. We are list-makers. I personally have a weekly list that I like to stare at every day. It’s a challenge – can you get all this shit done before Sunday?! Me to self – if you work super hard at the beginning of the week you could relax at the end of the week! You know why this doesn’t actually work? Because I add shit to the list. If I think of it, it must go on the list. There is no “waiting til next week” or just ignoring the thought. If it entered my head, IT MUST GO ON THE LIST. If it goes on the list, IT MUST GET DONE. Needless to say this concept usually ends up causing more stress than easing it. But I can’t stop. I would feel completely overwhelmed and panicky if I didn’t have my list. It’s a security blanket. Your day matters because you have this shit you have to get done. Your husband, child, and step-daughter cannot function without you because they don’t understand the importance of the list. I like to think they are in awe of my super-list, but they really probably just indulge my eccentricities.

This brings me next to the concept of THE NOTHING BOX. I have trouble sleeping at night. I am sure this surprises none of you. I can’t stop thinking – I can’t turn off my brain. It can take hours for me to go to sleep. And if I get woken up in the middle of the night (which happens every night) it more often than not means another sleepless hour or two in which to think of new things that need to be added to my list. My husband of course says “I’m going to sleep now” and less than five minutes later he’s totally out. HOW THE HELL?!?! Well, he says, he doesn’t think about anything. He just goes straight to sleep. What do you mean you don’t think about anything? That is not even possible. Well, it is, actually, he says. Look man, don’t piss me off. I’m telling you it’s not possible! He says – no really, I just go into my Nothing Box (a concept he got off some comedian somewhere I have to admit) and I go straight to sleep. He can even do this during the day! OK, I’ll bite. I’m gonna try going into this Nothing Box and see if it works. Here I go…

Here I am. Middle of my Nothing Box with my sleepy blanket and my pillow. Ready to chill-ax. Aaahhh. Hey this is cool. There’s nothing in here. I don’t have to think at all! 1… 2… 3… 4… Hmm I wonder if Baby Girl will sleep all night tonight. If I fall asleep NOW and she sleeps all night I’ll get to sleep for 7 hours, 34 minutes and um, 16 seconds. 15. 14. I wonder if it will be cooler tomorrow. I hope it doesn’t rain. We have a horseshow on Sunday. Crap, if it rains that means no $$ this weekend. Damn. Please don’t rain, please don’t rain, please don’t rain. And if it rains we have to wait AGAIN for it to dry out before the gravel can be delivered to fix the road. Sigh. Is that Baby Girl crying out? Please please please just go back to sleep!! Phew, yay. I really need to go get some melatonin for her tomorrow. And I need to find a ENT for her, I really need to get that done. OK I will do that. Tomorrow. Time to sleep now. HEY! WTF? How the heck did all this stuff get in this damn box?! Sigh. I knew there was no such thing as a Nothing Box.

Owning a business, keeping a house, keeping up with 9 acres, a barn, and an arena, keeping 9-12 horses fed, clean and happy, acknowledging my husband, keeping my step-daughter on her toes, and loving on my Baby Girl all take a shit-ton of time and energy. Some days I have to force myself to take a step back and remember that this Baby Girl will only be tiny for a short period of time. She will only want these paccy-kisses (kisses while still keeping the paccy in her mouth) and sticky, snuggly baby hugs for awhile before she’s Big. She’ll only find joy in sitting in my lap opening a random piece of mail because she can tear the envelope to pieces for a couple more years at best. So yesterday I took a time out for myself and for her and we finger painted. We actually put paint all over our hands and her feet and painted on paper. She thought I was the coolest mama ever, for a little while.

For those of you who, like me, find it difficult to sit down and relax I know you will understand how almost painful it is to stop and play with your kid. It was a skill I had to actually learn. After 38 years of doing what I wanted, when I wanted, and spending every day trying to get shit done, I had to actually learn how to stop. How to just chill. How to ignore my list. At least for an hour or so.

Who is this little girl who has replaced my baby? All of a sudden, my Baby Girl is talking in sentences, running around the house entertaining herself (mostly), answering questions (not just saying NO), refusing to put on clothes, changing her mind 14 times over one article of clothing, and all together acting like a little girl instead of a toddler. Potty training is imminent. I am dreading it.

I love diapers. I know I’m in the minority, but it’s just so EASY. You put a diaper on and you go about your day and you don’t have to find the nearest bathroom or patiently wait for someone to go poo whenever they manage it. Especially with my daughter. She doesn’t care when her diaper is wet. She’d go all day with it wet if I didn’t force the issue. She tells me anytime she’s “stinky.” We take care of the “stinky” and life goes on.

And the real issue is this… I have NO IDEA how to potty train something. Cats are easy. You stick the paws in the litter and scrape a few times and they’ve got that shit figured out. Literally. Horses don’t get potty trained. They go whenever, wherever. Their biggest problem is making them keep going forward if they poo in the middle of the flat class. And I don’t remember my own potty training – I bet I was born just using a toilet – so there you go. What on earth do you do?!

I have been avidly avoiding the issue for some time now. Grandpa sent money for a potty for his “fu fu.” There’s a Minnie Mouse one at Walmart that looks promising. I actually bought a book or two for Baby Girl on the subject. We read the “I wear panties” book every day. I point out that Mommy wears panties when she watches me go to the bathroom (I’ve already told everyone that I just leave the door open so we might as well move on to the fact that yes, she does indeed, watch me.) We discuss what toilet paper is for, we say “bye bye” to the toilet paper as it gets flushed. I keep the toilet lid down at all other times to make sure that other things don’t go “bye bye” too, like my phone that she’s fascinated with.

I have not read the toilet training section in the “Everything the Toddler Years” book. I know I need to. I did read an article somewhere that said back in the 50’s babies were generally potty trained by 18 months old because they didn’t have disposable diapers and the babies got annoyed enough with wet, dirty diapers that they eagerly embraced potty training. Well maybe not eagerly, but that’s the image I got in my head. Like they were also already talking in complete sentences and able to tell their parents exactly how they felt about the whole thing.

I have not bought tiny little panties for her yet. I am unsure what Pull-Ups are really for. My Baby Girl might be acting like a Big Girl in most ways but she can’t pull her own pants up over her diaper. So do you just go straight from diapers to panties and say good luck to ya Kid? I mean, does she even know when she has to pee? Do kids really figure out that if they have to pee they should pull down the Pull-Up (which is for all intents and purposes, really just a glorified diaper) and sit on the potty? She can take off her own diaper if she’s so inclined so what’s the point of Pull-Ups? I imagine that if she took off her own diaper to go pee in the potty that she would then just strut around naked until I did something about it.  And if she has a diaper on, why would she take it off to go pee in the potty? She’s a smart kid – I think she would realize that peeing in the diaper is a whole lot easier. And what about at night?! I do not fancy waking up and having to change the sheets because of not getting to the potty fast enough. I don’t even have another set of Peppa Pig sheets for her bed. The more I think about it, the more I realize that this enterprise is getting even more daunting. And expensive.

I’m just so glad she’s a girl. I think teaching a boy would be a nightmare. On the other hand, if she was a boy I could just claim ignorance and pass the whole thing off to Daddy. But since that is clearly not an option I guess I should take the plunge (get it? Ha Ha) and dive right in…

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Raise your hand if you have ever wanted to have temper tantrum like a toddler. Oohhh Oohh Me! Me! Can I please just throw myself on the floor and scream at the top of my lungs and bang my fists and howl, just because I have to actually get dressed and not wear pajamas all day? To be specific, the Peppa Pig pajamas. Day in… day out.

I have recently discovered that a toddler can have a monumental tantrum at any time of the day for any reason. I did not truly understand or appreciate this until the past few months. I thought Baby Girl had entered the terrible two stage way before her second birthday. Let me tell you… I WAS SO WRONG. One year old tantrums are nothing like two year old tantrums. At one, you can still typically pacify with some other idea – like hey! How about we wear the mickey mouse shirt today? Or you can just pick them up and move them as they cry, and they will snuffle and be sad but then get distracted and be totally over it. At two, there is no such thing as a short display of dissatisfaction. There is no bargaining, there is no cajoling, there is nothing to do but stand and watch in admiration as this tiny sweet child of yours turns into a wretched, writhing, howling monster.

At first it really bothered me, and I would watch her scream and wonder “what can I do to fix this?” The answer is NOTHING. Walk away Dearie, just walk away. Because that tantrum is going to last as long as the child wants it to and not a second less. I have watched her scream and roll on the floor in the Old Navy bathroom for about ten minutes while I contemplated exactly what kind of germs she was picking up by doing so. The poor lady in a stall when we came in had to gingerly step over the howling mess that was my child so she could wash her hands. She kindly did not say a word as she left the bathroom. Baby Girl finally stopped and I said ok let’s go and she calmly took my hand and was perfectly fine for the rest of the shopping excursion. I wasn’t fine though. That was the last time I have taken Baby Girl on a clothes shopping excursion. Maybe I’ll try it again when she’s 10. Or 20.

Of course the best tantrum of all is in the middle of the night (or at 5:30 am) when you both are supposed to be sleeping. Holy Mother of God, WHY won’t the child just snuggle in and go back to sleep when she wakes up instead of throwing a massive fit and demanding to watch EE? (T.V. for those of you not versed in toddler language). And WHY do I have to sit in the chair in her room while she demands me to “Wock, mama, WOCK!” until she falls back asleep? Why do I have to rock the damn chair when she’s not even in it with me?! And then sneaking out only to have my knees crack and her stick her arm out and say “noooooo!” so I have to sit back down and WOCK until she is snoring. So. Much. Fun.

Anyways, fellow mamas, don’t despair. Watch in admiration and amusement instead of distress when your two year old throws a tantrum over wanting gummy bears instead of toast (or whatever you are serving) for breakfast. The other evening Baby Girl refused to come sit and eat dinner with me. So I sat down and started eating while she screamed in the other room. She eventually decided she was rather hungry after all and came in the kitchen and calmly sat in her chair and started to eat. I didn’t say a word. We ended up both eating peacefully and happily while watching House Hunters on EE. Totally worth the 10 minute screaming fit, over the 30-60 minute battle it would have been if I had decided to engage. I have learned a lot these past few months, my friends. Some good, some bad, it’s all about that toddler and winning the war of motherhood.

But. Holy Jesus, please don’t tell me Three is even worse.