Be Nice To Mommies.

Not a very inspired title, but I am confused. Sincerely, I am. This is not a rant and rave type post, I am just genuinely confused. Here's what I'm perplexed about: What gives other mothers the right to openly judge the decisions you make for your kids, as long as those decisions are made with the best of intentions? Sure, I've had my moments of going, "Whoa. That is the craziest thing I have ever heard and I certainly wouldn't do that with MY kids." But I would never openly SAY THAT TO THE PERSON, to their face, unless I felt like there was abuse happening. I have the great pleasure of being acquaintances with a lady who feels that it is her place to tell people (namely, ME) what they are doing right and wrong with their kids. Her "advice" knows no limits: potty-training is done incorrectly by just about everyone except herself, no one else feeds their kids healthy enough, and she definitely has cornered the market on educating her kids. I'm sure that they are speaking Chinese by the time they are 18 months old, but whatever. And I am FINE with all of that. Just fine. It just boggles my mind that other mothers would look down on another mother for just doing the best she flipping can. No, I may not sit down with my 3 year old and go through addition flashcards, and my 3 month old doesn't take great naps yet because we are rarely home for him to get a lot of daytime sleep. But for God's sake, I am doing the best I know how to do here. All of this stems from an incident last week...


Scene: The park. With a small group of friends, and aforementioned beotch. Aannnndd action. A few of us were talking about when we had to sleep-train our kids who are now preschoolers. We were reminiscing about the few nights we spent in tears with our babies while they learned how to fall asleep by themselves, and how haaard it was to go through that. One of my friends said that I probably wasn't looking forward to going through it with Charlie, huh? And I happened to mention that, uh, we have already started, to some degree. I had the magical 4 Month Mark set for starting the sleep training, but I started early. Shoot me. Anyway, they were asking what we are doing, and I told her about our new routine, and that Charlie is actually taking to it quite well. Way better than I had expected. I told them that everything had just come to a head, and Charlie was getting zero sleep during the day, which made him ummm just a tad over-tired by the afternoon, which made him sleep like shit at night, and it also made him too tired to eat very well. So I had a hungry, exhausted, screaming baby. ALL. DAY. LONG. I had to do something, and since me holding him for his entire nap 3-4 times a day was out of the question, I needed to start to teach him how to sleep alone. So I'm describing the whole program, when this woman interrupts me, strokes Charlie's little cheek, looks him in the eyes, and says, "Oh you poor, poor little thing. Having to cry yourself to sleep all day and night."

Camera pans to me, mouth agape and unable to speak, which doesn't happen very often. End scene.

Seriously. She actually said that. To my, errr, Charlie's face. First of all, one of my biggest pet peeves is passive aggressive people. Just say what you mean and don't try to sidestep confrontation by slyly inserting some comment into the conversation. Second of all, %@*D&!%%)*#T@. I have never even had the thought enter my head to approach someone about their parenting decisions, especially not over something like SLEEP TRAINING. Some people spank, I don't. Some people are super crazy strict with the food their kids eat, I don't really go insane to make sure they only eat organic food. Some people nurse their kids for years, I don't. And, some people enjoy co-sleeping with their kids until they are old enough to drive, I don't. WHAT IS THE BIG DEAL? Is a person only a "good" mother if they sleep with their kids, feed them only organic food, spank them, breastfeed for 3 years, or have their kids speaking 3 languages before preschool, even if any of the above things make the mother MISERABLE?! I probably could co-sleep with Charlie until he decided to sleep in his own bed, but I would not be a happy person if I shared our bed with him for 3+ years. Does this make me a bad mother? I don't think it does, I think it makes me a person who loves to play and cuddle with her kids during the day, and then sleep in her own bed at night. This woman also commented that I am "making" Charlie cry. First of all, no I'm not. I'm not pinching him really hard on his leg or slapping his face and then dumping him in his crib as I sprint out of his room. That would be making him cry. I'm allowing him to cry for timed intervals, after which I check on him, calm him down, then give him another shot at falling asleep unassisted. And guess what? If it doesn't work on a particular day, it doesn't work. And I rock him to sleep and try again later. Because I'm not a moron. I realize that he is 3 months old and shouldn't be left to cry for long periods of time. But what's worse: Him crying alone for 15 minutes at a time, and then falling asleep for a good nap, OR him not getting ANY sleep all day long and being so completely fried by 3:00pm that he is shaking and screaming and damn near having a seizure, he's so exhausted? I choose Option A. He's not crying because he's hungry or wet or cold or hot or ABCDEFG. He's crying because he wants me to rock him all the way to sleep for over an hour 4 times a day and at night. I had to do this with Ella, and I now have a World Champion sleeper in her. She will actually ASK to go to bed, and she absolutely will not have her dad or myself sleep with her, or sleep with us in our bed. Fine by me. I am free to enjoy her all I want during the day, and then she goes to bed alone. No rocking or singing or crazy bedtime routines, just sleep. And she is a completely happy, well-adjusted, brilliant child with absolutely no "abandonment issues" because I let her cry it out when she was a baby. It works for me and my kids so I'm going with what I know. And if it doesn't work for Charlie? I'll do something else, to be determined at a later date.

I just cannot for the life of me figure out what entitles someone to make snide comments about other peoples' parenting choices. My sister has two kids just like I do, and while we don't do things exactly the same way with our babies, I would never think to openly berate her for the choices she makes regarding her own offspring. I think she's a good mom even though we make different decisions for our very different children. I have lots and lots of friends who are moms and we all have different parenting styles, and I don't think a single one of us is "right" or "wrong"...I think we all have different kids and we all are just doing the best we ding dang can. I have one friend who tried to let her daughter "cry it out", and her daughter would puke every single time. It just didn't work for her. I have a friend who co sleeps with her kids and enjoys it. Whatever works for her. I have a friend who absolutely loves her job and didn't want to give it up when she started having kids. Fantastic, it works for her family. I just don't understand this entitlement that some people feel they have to look another mom in the eye, KNOWING exactly how hard this job is, and tell her that she isn't doing a good job. I've worked in "real" jobs, and I've stayed home with my kids for the past 3 years, and I have friends who work in jobs outside the home while they have kids. And guess what a lot of those friends have said to me before? "Wow, staying home is so haaarrd, I don't know if I could do it." It is hard...you sacrifice yourself all day and night to these little people who just want want want and need need need, and there is seldom any time left in the day for myself. But I choose this job, because I think it is important for me to be here for this time in my childrens' lives, while they are still so little and are becoming the people they will one day turn out to be. And it just blows my mind that another mother in the same position would be unkind enough to tell me (or anyone else) that THEY don't feel like I'm doing the best I can with my kids.

So in closing...be kind to other moms. Whether we stay at home, work outside the home, have one kid or twelve, subscribe to Attachment Parenting or are big fans of Babywise, whether we cook meals from scratch three times a day or we plop some macaroni and cheese in front of our toddlers for lunch...we are all just doing the best we know how to do.


Is he REALLY happy and smiley, or will me allowing him to cry for 15 minutes drive him to become a mass-murdering psychopath? Eh, we'll see.

Everything Looks Better When You Get Some Sleep.

The heavens have opened up and the angels sang. Hell has frozen over. Charlie is sleeping through the night. I've not wanted to even THINK those words in the same sentence for fear that it would somehow undo the magic that is an 11 week old baby sleeping from 8pm-7am. I'm still a little superstitious about it...every night I think, "Okay, tonight he will be up a LOT." Kinda like if I prepare for and expect the worst then he will surprise everyone and sleep for twelve hours. Sure, this new found sleep schedule still includes a good solid hour or more of me rocking him to sleep and laying him down only when he is dead to the world, but I will freaking take it. For a week straight he has slept all night long, occasionally waking up for a second or two to let me know that he would prefer to be in my bed with me, nuzzled up as close to me as he can humanly get without smothering himself. But I even kind of enjoy that, a little bit. Those who know me know that I am NOT one of those uber-crunchy, let-your-babies-and-kids-do-whatever-the-hell-they-please-at-the-expense-of-everyone-else's-sanity kinda mom. I will gladly accommodate my kids up to a point. And that point usually stops with a baby who weighs 25 lbs kicking me in the face all night long and snoring in my ear. But while Charlie is still so small, I'm enjoying waking up to his sweet face in the mornings and feeling him nuzzling my side in the early morning hours. Soon, though, Sleep Nazi Mom will have to rear her ugly head, and it won't be pretty. For anyone. But it must be done so that I'm not waking up to Charlie one day, hearing him say, "Hey mom, can you drive me to school early this morning? I have an algebra study session."

He's smirking now because I'm still rocking him to sleep. Tune in in a few weeks and I'll bet he won't think he's so cute then.

First Soccer Practice

Ella's first soccer practice was last night. And I didn't really know what to expect. I mean, the only team sport I ever played was in middle and high school, so my experience with all of the "team" stuff is running 5 miles and then doing those horrible horrible sprints up and down the hills surrounding my school. Was Ella's coach going to make them do a timed mile run? Maybe some "ladders" up and down the field? I had no clue. If you have never been to a 3 year-old soccer team's practice, let me tell you what it's like: SNIAUNYUBCXTEVNASOMBCYWEBC. It made just as much sense as those letters I just pounded out on my keyboard. Practice started by meeting Coach Betsy, learning that when she blows her whistle you need to stop running and stand still, and how to kick the ball. The end. And their first GAME is this SATURDAY. Only one "practice", and then the game. So we'll have a bunch of three year olds running around the field in different directions, but they'll at least know to stop running when the coach blows on her whistle. But seriously, it was maybe the cutest thing I have ever seen. Ella is the only girl on the team even though we signed her up for the boy/girl team, and she is by far the tallest one. Get used to it, kid. Coach Betsy asked them if anyone had any good ideas for a team name, and almost all of the kids said "YES! I DO!!!". And then none of them said anything. At all. They looked at her like she had a booger hanging out of her nose. So some kid ended up shouting out "Tiger!", so the Tigers they are. Thank God he didn't call out something ridiculous like Peacock! or Hamster! She got her uniform, a lovely orange, green, black and white ensemble that all of the kids wanted to put on right THIS MINUTE GAHHHHH. So they were all stuffed into their jerseys, having on their coats and sweaters underneath. Basically it looked like a bunch of overly ripe pumpkins waddling around the field. Ella had a blast, even if she is still just a smidge confused by the whole premise of this soccer thing. On the way home, I reminded her of how she has to listen to her coach when she's telling the kids what to do, and Ella pinched her bright orange jersey between her fingers and asked, "Is this my coach?". I think we still have some fundamentals to work on.


Not a single kid was running in the same direction.







I didn't have the heart to tell her that doing the splits is not considered a useful skill in soccer.

To Michael, From Mikan With Love.

Just kidding. Sort of. But here's the scene I was referencing last week, Michael. Because you are possibly the only person on the face of this planet who has not seen Say Anything.

Self Esteem: Check.

I was putting on makeup (!!!) last night since Mikan and I had our big night out, and Ella wanted to help. By "help", I mean she wanted to rifle through my makeup bag and try to sneak all of the things I do not let her use: eyeliner, mascara, bright red lipstick. Why she even tries this when I am standing less than two feet away from her I will never understand, but whatever. I took all of the stuff away from her and handed her the one thing in my bag she can have...pale pink lipstick. I turned back to my mirror and finished putting on my own makeup while she was sitting on her little step-stool putting on her "lips". As soon as I was finished I turned to her, and what I saw was Bozo The Clown's cousin, sitting right in my bathroom. She actually looked a little bit frightening, kind of like The Joker, with lipstick from cheek to cheek, all crooked and creepy looking. And even though the lipstick I allowed her to have was pale as could be, she somehow managed to apply it with enough force and in many many layers that it looked like a deep purple color. Yikes. I asked her if she was finished with her makeup, and she sighed and said, "Yes, mom. Now please hand me that mirror so I can look and see how cute I am."

I wish I felt like that all the ding dang time.

Goodbye, Slyes!

Our good friends and next door neighbors are moving to Huntsville, AL next week. This sucks on many levels: Their son, Cooper, was Ella's first friend and they play together all the time. Mandy is my sit-on-the-deck-while-the-kids-play-outside-so-we-don't-have-to-entertain-them buddy. And Michael...well, lets just say that sometimes I feel like Mikan is more married to Michael than he is me. Seriously. I sometimes expect to look out in their front yard and find Mikan holding up a boom box that's blaring "In Your Eyes", a la John Cusack. But that's neither here nor there. They're leaving, and they will be missed.



Cue the sappy music.

The Many Faces Of Charlie

Well, okay, maybe like 3 different faces. But around here we are ecstatic when Charlie isn't doing his blood-curdling, make-you-want-to-hang-yourself-from-the-ceiling-fan scream, so I snap photos of him whenever he is calm and all smiley. Which, in 20 years, will be a bit misleading I think. "Mom, I have no clue what you are talking about. Difficult baby? Look, I was ALWAYS smiling and laughing in every picture!" Pssshhh. Maybe I should video tape his screaming which was described best by my mom: Sounds like two cats stuffed in a bag, fighting to the death. God love him.

Holding Steady.

Life seems to have gotten into a (more) manageable pattern here in the last couple of weeks. And by pattern I mean that there is absolutely no schedule or time to get anything done in one day. I am accepting that for the foreseeable future my life will have absolutely no pattern to it except for the running theme of Mundane Chaos, which is actually not as bad as it may sound. Sure, I am constantly running from one kid to the other, trying to get everyone's needs met as fast as I humanly can, and in this shuffle I seem to get lost, only getting two showers a week on average and perpetually being covered in peanut butter, spit-up, poop, or all of the above. But glory hallelujah, Charlie is SLEEPING at night! Since we have all recovered from the nasty cold last week, he has been giving me a solid 6 hour slumber for the first part of the night, and it is heavenly. He still holds firm on the whole Nap Strike 2009, but at least I can look forward to getting some rest at night now. We've not been doing much except for just making it through one day at a time without losing our sanity, and enjoying the lovely weather that has come our way for the last week or so. But, hey! We're making it. It's amazing how one's perspective can change when you get an extra 2 hours of sleep at night.

Enjoying the weather, because it's Nashville, and it could be snowing by Thursday.

Tiiiiirrrred.

I need to post something today so that the unpleasant post below will no longer be at the top of the page. Unpleasant, yes... but it had to be said, in my opinion. Anyway, I don't really have much to say except that I am pretty dang tired today, because Charlie has decided that sleeping when it is dark outside is for wimps and, oh, no, we can't have THAT! Blessed will be theday that this child learns to put himself back to sleep when he wakes up at 1:30, 3:00, 4:00, and 5:45. He isn't even eating at any of those times. He would just prefer that I gently rock him back to sleep while muttering curse words and promises of getting my tubes tied. So anyway, I'm pretty tired and am currently operating on about four hours of very broken up sleep and two whole pots of coffee. But I have pictures from the last week or so. Sometimes I have to look at the pictures in my camera to remind myself what it is that we DO from day to day, because my days are a haze of coffee, walzting Charlie's rear end around the house for naptime since naps are apparently for wimps, too, and trying to fit in some quality time with Ella. The day seems to be over before it even really begins, which is not necessarily a bad things on some days.

Hey! Guess What?

I apparently have more than 2 people who read my blog. Exciting, no? This fact was recently brought to my attention when someone informed me that a certain someone that reads my trivial little daily rants and posts thinks that I am in dire need of "help". I think they said "anger management", to be more specific. Why, you ask? Because I don't care much for Mr. Obama and said as much in a post back in November. Now I don't think my post was particularly harsh, and I certainly didn't use any foul language in describing my feelings towards our President, but this someone just can't comprehend WHY I might not see why his being elected is not the best thing for our country. And here's what I have to say to that person: DON'T. READ. MY. BLOG. It's that simple. I know that back in 1925 when you were born, women didn't much speak their mind about things like politics, but they do now, so get over it. If I were you, I would maybe even be proud that my younger relatives were informed and passionate enough to have a strong opinion on world issues, unlike many of the morons of my generation who simply don't care or are too stupid to care. I just fail to see how it is any of your business whom I choose to support in an election, or why it even matters to you. If I want to dress my entire family in black and dance around a pentagram while chanting praises to Satan, it has little to no effect on you. Also? Before your visit last year? I think it had been, oh, ten years or more since I had seen you. So on top of offering up completely unsolicited advice, you don't even know me! At all! If someone said your name it would take me a few minutes to realize hey! I have a relative by that name! THAT is how minute your role in my (and my siblings') life has been. While we're on the subject of unsolicited advice, though: Your thousands of pictures of your garden are boring. And stupid. Because they're flowers and shrubs, and no one needs to see 37 pictures of the same rosebud from different angles.