Hoarding and divorce. Fun times!

Wow, I've had a lot going on the past week or so.  I thought that with each passing day, being back at work would be a bit easier, but it in fact has been more difficult.  Work itself has been good.  In fact, work is probably the best thing I had going for me this past week.

It is no secret that my mother-in-law watches my children while the husband and I work.  She's great with the kids and my toddler truly loves being with her and granddaddy.  When I was pregnant with my first son, she called and asked us if she could babysit.  She practically interviewed for the job.  It was very sweet and my husband and I agreed that she would be the best person to take care of our child.  When we found out we were pregnant with the second, we practically told her before I had finished peeing on the stick.  We needed to know if she wanted to watch both (because not only does she have our two children but she also babysits one of her other grandchildren).  She of course was ecstatic about the pregnancy and the new grandchild on the way and said she wanted to watch our two and the other grandchild - no problem!  She told us if she ever decided not to continue babysitting, she would give us at least six months to a year of notice.  She would not and still will not take any money for it either, but we buy her nice things and help her and my father-in-law out with things around the house as much as possible.

I must also mention that my MIL is a borderline hoarder.  If you've watched TLC's Hoarding, think about one of the lesser cases they portray.  That's her.  There are a number of reasons as to why she holds onto things.  She's been in the antique business for a number of years.  When she initially started to collect, it was all supposed to be for the business.  But, all of the stuff she bought kept coming into the house...and it got worse and worse.  So bad that there was barely anywhere to sit when we went to her house to visit.  We had to crawl over things to get to the kitchen table for family dinners, and we would trip over things in the foyer when walking in the house.  My husband and his siblings would talk to her and help her clean up a bit and for a short while, the house would look nice again.  Sadly, it wouldn't take long to become a mess again.  But, it was supposedly all for the business.

Another reason we believe she holds onto things is because she does not own her own home.  She lives in her deceased mother in law's home.  She was the primary caretaker for her own MIL for many years.  She did everything for her.  She did things for her that no one else would do.  Her MIL passed away last year, and at first, my MIL cleaned up the house, painted, put in some new carpet, and appeared to be making it her own.  It was starting to look good.  It wasn't perfect, but it was livable.  The bedrooms, the attic, corners of the main rooms, and the garage were all still full of stuff.  But, the main rooms (den, living room, and kitchen) were usable and looked decent.  Here recently however, things took a turn for the worse.

My MIL has decided to leave the antique business, and instead of getting rid of the merchandise, she brought most of it back to her house.  I'm not talking about old tables and chairs.  I'm talking about boxes of stuff.  Random, mostly non-useful stuff.  Small things.  Things not suitable when you have toddlers running around.  Over the past couple of weeks, the three rooms she used have become full of stuff.  It's everywhere.  It's on tables, chairs, it's teetering off of the edge of old furniture, it's piled so high that if you touch one part of it, a domino effect of falling stuff would happen.  It's on the changing table we gave her for the kids.  It's covering up the toys, exersaucer, and pack n plays.  It's on the kitchen table, counters, in the bathroom.  It's on the stairs.  It's on the front porch.  It's everywhere.  It's impossible to get in the door of the house without tripping over or stepping around stuff.  I hate it.
I have tried not to judge.  I have tried not to complain but I hit my breaking point this week.  She is watching my children-the two most precious things in my life.  She brought so much shit in the house that the two toddlers had a five foot by five foot area to play in in the the living room (a circle of space completely surrounded by stuff) and a few feet of space to play in in the kitchen.  That's it.  The huge den they used to play in (the room that has the baby gates and was actually somewhat baby proof) was so full you couldn't walk in it.  There were a couple of days that I found my toddler playing in the kitchen trash can because that's the only area he had to be in.  The trash can!!!  WTF.

Every day leading up to this past week as I pulled out of the driveway, I prayed that my toddler would not get into a box of stuff and choke on something or accidentally knock into something that would create an avalanche of falling stuff that would hurt my little baby.  Each morning when I dropped the kids off, my MIL would make an excuse as to why the house is a mess.  I've heard these same excuses now for years.  I don't buy them.  I'm not a fool.

Finally, on Wednesday, I arrive to pick up the kids, and my MIL makes the comment that taking care of 3 is trying her patience.  She said she constantly has to watch them.  WTF.  Are you serious???  She said she has to watch them because they try to get in all of her stuff.  You put the stuff there lady!!!  You removed the children from the one room that was sort of baby proof that had all of their toys in it and have them playing in a five by five space that is surrounded by junk.  All they have is that space and the f-ing trash can to play in.  OF COURSE YOU HAVE TO WATCH THEM!!!

This is not the first time I've heard this.  She has made a few snarky comments to me about babysitting 3 kids over the past year.  Please remember that we asked her immediately upon finding out we were pregnant with number 2 if she was willing to watch the baby or if we needed to find another sitter...and she told us she absolutely wanted to.  We gave her an out.

So, back to Wednesday night.  I didn't say anything and packed up my kids and left.  I arrived home and told my husband about her comment and that we needed to find an alternative.  I was not about to allow my two precious babies to be in that environment anymore.  My MIL was evidently overwhelmed and frustrated with her house, and watching the three children was too much.  I was pissed.  It wasn't supposed to be like this.  We were supposed to be given ample time to figure out a new situation if we needed one.

My husband believes his mother is a few steps away from crazy, so he understands my frustration and he too feels my pain.  However, he doesn't want to hear me talk about it.  I asked him to do something about it and talk to his mother as she is not my own mother and I do not feel comfortable having that type of conversation with her.  It was time to ask her how she truly felt and if she honestly wanted to continue watching the children.  It was time to find out if she wanted to watch the three she is currently watching...as well as the fourth that is on the way!  No, it's not me.  My sister in law is preggo with number 2 and her first is the other grandchild my MIL watches.

I asked my husband not to yell at his mom or argue with her about all of the stuff.  I asked him to have a dialogue with her and find out what is going on with her, all of the stuff, and if she even wants to continue watching the kids.  I beg him not to yell at her.  Nothing is accomplished that way and she is already extremely defensive about all of her stuff to begin with...no matter how you talk to her.  On Thursday night, he tells me he went over to his mom's that morning and blasted her.  I was so upset.  What would that solve??  I then become angry at him because it seems the whole situation is spiraling out of control.  All I wanted to do was to figure out what is going on in his mother's head and find out if she truly wants to continue watching the kids.  I didn't want to create a family argument.  I try to explain this to my husband, who then tells me it's none of my business what he said to her and that I don't know what he said.  Then I remind him that he told me he went over to her house and "blasted her" and he then basically lets me know he lied about that and doesn't have to tell me what they talked about.

This, I do not agree with.  My children are over there.  They spend more time over there during the week than they do with me.  I have every right to know what is going on.  I completely understand that I asked my husband to talk to his mother, but that's only because she doesn't listen to me and I don't feel comfortable talking to her about those things.  Before my husband talked to her, I even told him I would be a part of the conversation if he wanted me to be, and he said he would handle it.  All I wanted to do was find out if she was ok and do the right thing for our children.

Unfortunately, the situation turned into a yelling match between my husband and I.  The arguing ran all the way into Friday morning.  I was so frustrated because I didn't know if there was a solution to the situation.  Does she still want to babysit?  Is she going to clean up her house and actually provide a safe environment for my children?  What are we going to do about finding the money to pay for a daycare or another sitter?  How will my kids adjust to a new place?  How in the hell am I going to find a new sitter with such short notice?  I had all of these thoughts running around in my head and I was upset.  My husband was no longer listening to me and did not want to deal with it.  I tried to explain to him that he was just like his mom when it came to that stuff - not listening, thinking he is right no matter what, etc.  He doesn't think he's like her at all, but the reason the two of them do not see eye to eye is because they are so much alike.  But that's a whole other topic.

Anyway, I couldn't take it anymore.  I was trying to eat my breakfast and give my toddler his breakfast.  I was crying.  I was just so mad that my MIL had let her house turn into a pile of shit again, that my husband was purposely lying to me about whatever conversation he had with her, and that my kids were caught in the middle of the craziness.

If I'm crying during an argument, my voice gets louder.  I can't help it.  I am not trying to yell.  Well, on Friday morning, my husband apparently thinks I'm trying to yell at him, so he mocks me and begins yelling back.  And, this makes my toddler cry.  He looks at his dad yelling at me and begins crying.  I console him and he hugs me.  I try to finish his breakfast and my husband yells again because he thinks I'm yelling at him, and my toddler starts crying AGAIN.  Shit.  We have turned into my parents.  Our actions are causing our son to be afraid and cry.  At that moment, I feel like a failure.

My husband and I were doing the exact thing I never wanted us to do.  We were fighting in front of our son and he was crying because of it.  I went through an entire childhood of this.  I told myself I'd never let this happen to my own children.  I'd never put them through the pure hell I experienced as I kid. 
I sat in the kitchen beside my son and consoled him.  I looked out the window and sobbed.  I told my husband I couldn't be with him if it was going to be like this.  We'd already thrown out the big D word several times during the argument.  But, this time, I meant it.  I was willing to get divorced rather than put my kids through hell.  It is not fair to them.  I will NOT live this way.

I couldn't deal with it anymore so I went upstairs and took a shower.  We had to be at the doctor for checkups for our sons and I needed to get ready.  I cried in the shower.  I couldn't understand why things had spiraled so out of control.  Why can't my MIL understand that her house is unsafe for my kids?  Why does she think it's ok to have piles of shit laying around every square inch of her house?  Why won't she listen to us about cleaning it up and ensuring it is safe for the kids?  Why isn't my husband able to have a meaningful conversation with her about it?  Why do I not have the fortitude to talk to her myself?  Why can't my husband just listen to me and let me vent without accusing me of being a bitch and nagging?  Why is all of this so hard?

But, then I realize, life is hard.  Nothing worth doing is easy.  Having kids is not easy.  Dealing with the in-laws is not easy.  A marriage is not easy...at all.  All we can do is make the most of it.  I take my shower and much like the water rinses the dirt off my body and down the drain, I let all of the emotions of the past week go down the drain too.  There's nothing else I can do.  My MIL is going to continue to collect crap and do what she wants with it.  My husband will be combative with her because they are so much alike.  We will continue to argue throughout our entire marriage because we are completely different people who rarely see eye to eye on anything.  All I can do is love my kids, respect my husband and his opinions, and do what I can to keep the peace.  I will do my best to ensure my kids have a safe and loving environment no matter where they are.  They are my priority.

I don't want a divorce.  I love my husband.  He's got his faults, but I do too.  He takes care of me and he loves the boys more than anyone.  He has stuck by me through a lot and he's a good man.  I never want to not be with him.  But, in the heat of arguments, I feel differently.  All I can do is ensure we do not argue in front of the kids.  They deserve the best life we can give them, and unlike my parents, I must choose a different path...  A path not filled with fighting, arguing, and name-calling.  It was selfish of my parents to not protect my brother and I from that.  Remember, my family told me to "break the cycle" and this is another step in that journey.  I will break the cycle of arguing in front of my children.  I will not allow my marriage to end in divorce.

*Disclaimer - Since this was written, my MIL has actually made some big strides in making sure the house is in suitable condition for the children.  I believe my husband may have given her an ultimatum when he spoke with her - clean up or we are taking the kids elsewhere.  There's a long way to go, but she's making an effort.  She's working with another family member who is much more patient with her than any of the rest of us.  The other family member is willing to have a conversation with my MIL about each item before they decide what to do with it, whereas the rest of us just want to light a match to the place.  We will see how it all turns out.

**To my husband - I love you and do not want us to argue like we did this past week.  Let's not allow the choices our family members make interfere in our lives like this again.  You are my rock and even though you may not think so, you do keep me sane ;)

Hemorrhaging money.

OMG.  Kids are so expensive.  We are spending a ton of money every month.  We hit up the grocery store and/or Sams Club at least once per week.  My toddler eats fruit like it's going out of style...and now he's catching on to veggies and loving those too.  In addition to fresh, expensive produce, he loves all things dairy.  Milk, yogurt, cheese, eggs...  He loves crackers, raisins, juice, etc.  He eats a lot.  He eats way more than I expected a year and a half old would eat, and we are feeling the pinch.  Our grocery bill has more than doubled.  I know I know, I should have planned for this when we were preggo.  I did mentally prepare for it, but nothing could prepare my wallet for it.

Not only do we spend a large amount of money in food every month, but we constantly need something for ourselves or the kids.  Just when I think we are getting to a point in our lives where there's nothing we need to buy, it turns out I was wrong.  We just finished scoping out and purchasing a decent metal swing set for the backyard.  Our son likes to be outside and since we can't really afford to take him anywhere, we'll at least have something for him to do here at home.  Of course, you can't just buy a swing set these days.  We also had to buy a toddler swing, sand for the sandbox part of it, and some chairs for us to sit in while we are out in the yard with the kids. 

My husband was gracious enough to go to the grocery store, Sams Club, Lowes, and Toys R Us today to get everyting on our list  $700 later, he is home.  I am so scared.  We had to put all of it on the credit card and have had to do that for the past month as I have missed two paychecks due to my maternity leave.  When he got home with everything, I thought to myself, "Great, we just bought the last big thing we'll need for a while." No sooner had that thought crossed my mind, then the damn baby gate at the top of the stairs breaks.  Awesome.  I shouldn't be mad.  We've been using it for a year and it was free (thank the Lord for good friends and hand-me-downs).  So, off to the store again tomorrow to spend more money.  I just checked our credit card balance - almost maxed out.  I can't stand it. Someone please stop the bleeding.

In one of my earlier posts, I mentioned how we are going to be on a debt reduction plan and that starts April 1st.  We will be on a tight budget and will have to stick to it to make this work.  If we can't, we'll be bankrupt.  Neither of us have been very good with money, but now that we have the means to put money toward debt reduction, it's almost impossible to do so.  Probably should have thought about this before we had kids.  Oh well.

I stress about money a lot.  I hate it.  The more we make, the more we spend.  I suppose that's the American way.  I worry all the time that we will not be able to provide for the kids, or that the car will break down and we can't afford to fix it. (Wait, we've already got that going on.  My husband's car is sitting in the driveway because we can't afford to fix it.  Thank God it's not one of the cars we carry the kids around in.) 

We've done this to ourselves and I really shouldn't make any excuses.  I am taking accountability for the fact that we are strapped.  If we didn't have revolving debt, we could probably afford another house.  The only thing we can do is get out of it.  It'll be a difficult couple of years, but we can do it.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed that interest rates stay where they are and gas prices go down.  I'm fortunate to be in a job where I am eligible for performance raises each year, so I've got to make sure I do whatever I can to get one of those. 

I shouldn't complain because there are so many people in much worse situations than me.  I realize this.  I realize I probably sound like I'm whining, but this is my reality.  It's no secret that my husband and I want a third child, but that will not happen anytime soon.  I'm just not sure how we'd pay for him/her, so we'll be holding off on that plan for quite some time.

Keep your fingers crossed for us.  Debt reduction plan starts in T minus 10 days... 

A bowl full of mush.

Goodnight Moon.  A classic.  My older son loves that book.  He loves searching the pages for the moon and balloon, and he laughs every time we say "bowl full of mush."  It is incredibly cute.
Right now, I feel like my brain is a bowl full of mush.  I've been back to work for a week and I can't decide if I'm happy or sad.  My job is very stressful right now.  In one of my earlier posts I mentioned how I was going back to a mess at work.  It actually hasn't been as bad as I thought and I'm making headway.  Since I've been back, productivity has already increased, but it's not easy.  At all.

When I'm at work, I miss the boys, but I am happy at work.  I enjoy my colleagues and I feel valuable, important, and like I'm truly making a difference.  When I'm at home, however, I do not miss my work.  Sure, I think about it, but I do not miss it.  Tonight, my husband read my toddler a story as he settled down into his bed, and I sat beside the bed and held his hand.  After the story was over, my husband left the room, and I just sat there with my arm on my son.  He was holding it close with both hands...almost hugging it.  And, I cried.  I miss him.  I miss my sons even when I'm with them.  My brain is so full of all of the details of my life and is working so hard to keep them all in order, that I can't even focus on my own children when I'm with them.

I keep thinking back to my maternity leave and wondering if I did all that I could to make that a special time for my toddler.  Did he have fun being home with mommy?  Did I give him enough attention and play time?  The other day when I picked the boys up from my mother-in-law's, my toddler did not want to leave.  He absolutely loves his "dadaddy" and "mamaw."  He threw a fit when I attempted to put him in the car seat.  He cried and straightened up his whole body so I couldn't get him in the seat.  I finally had to get his dadaddy to help.  I love that he loves his grandparents and that's genuinely happy when I leave him there, but I hate it at the same time.  Am I that un-fun? (I realize that's not a word, but you know what I mean.)

I feel like I'm already losing my toddler.  I know that may sound ridiculous, and it's a difficult feeling to describe.  He doesn't need me.  He is perfectly content with his mamaw and dadaddy...or whoever he happens to be around at the time.  In some of my earlier posts I've talked about how independent my son is.  He's truly a special boy.  He's happy most of the time and loves everyone.  He's taken to his toddler bed like he's been sleeping in it his whole life (and he's only a year and a half - today as a matter of fact).  He says 200 plus words, tells me what he needs and when he needs it, has started potty training, and is all around amazing.  I keep trying to remember what it was like when he was a baby and my brain feels like mush.  I can't seem to remember the feeling of holding him or what he looked like at certain ages.  Sure, I have pictures, but I am having such a difficult time remembering.  And, it wasn't that long ago!  I've heard other moms talk about how they'll never forget the feeling of holding each of their children in their arms and all of their first moments.  Why am I struggling with this?

I'm already starting to lose some of the memories of my second son when he was a tiny little baby, and he's only three months old.  I blame it on work.  I blame it on our fast-paced life.  I blame it on myself.  Part of me wonders if I would feel differently if I were a stay at home mom?  My job is so stressful, but I love the challenge.  But, at the same time, I wonder if I could do without the challenge...and the identity I've created for myself at work.  I can't do without the paycheck, but each day the thought has crossed my mind that I could do without this job.  I get so caught up in it, so caught up in the chores at home, so caught up in other people's issues, that I am forgetting my memories of my own children.

 I've been back to work for exactly a week now and my head feels like a bowl full of mush.  I'm happy, I'm sad, I'm angry, I'm stressed, I'm all.over.the.place.  I'm mad at my husband and at myself, and I'm having a tough time understanding why.  Some days on the way home I just drive and stare straight ahead...no radio...no phone.  I try to switch off the work brain, clear my head, and turn on the mommy brain.  My mind swims with the details of it all.  Did I submit the correct report at work? Do we have enough juice for the rest of this week for my toddler? Did I pay the bill for our new mattress? When does my car need oil again? Have we given our baby enough tummy time and when is he supposed to roll over? After I run down the list of questions in my head, then I start to worry that I'll forget the answers and a detail of my life will be missed.  I'm so fearful of waking up one morning and not having enough juice for my toddler or realizing that I left my pumped breast milk on the counter instead of freezing it...  I honestly believe I spend so much time worrying about the details and am so fearful of missing one, that I'm missing the point of all of this all together.

I'm just not quite sure how to clear my head, get rid of the mush, and focus on what's most important.  In some of my earlier posts I talk about my nut-job parents, and I'm so fearful of turning into them.  I've seem some of their crazy ass traits in myself this past week (temper, OCD, snapping at the people I love, being overly pessimistic) and I need these to go away.  I do not want to end up like my mom...who called me today to let me know my great Uncle passed away but quickly turned the conversation into why my step-dad is being mistreated at work because his colleagues are all idiots.  Really?  Was that really the time to bash perfect strangers?  Please lady, I've heard it all from you before.  You think everyone you've ever come into contact with in a professional setting is an idiot.  On the other hand, I do not want to end up like my dad who is sad, broke, and alone with just his material possessions that he has perfectly displayed and spaced on the tables in his house (that's a whole other story).

Any advice for this mom would be much appreciated.  I suppose I just need help clearing my head and setting some priorities.  I need to give up control of some things.  I can't do it all.  I need to stop worrying that I'll turn into my parents.  I need to focus.

For now though, I need to sleep.  5am gets here quickly.

So, goodnight comb and goodnight brush, goodnight nobody, goodnight mush!

All the best,
Someone's mom

Thank you God for Saturday morning...even Friday night was pretty great.  The rest of the week?  I can do without.

I made it through my first week of being a working mom of 2, and I can't say I enjoyed it.  The morning routine now has an extra hour to hour and a half and a ton of stress for me.  There were two mornings where I had everything packed up for the next day, and those mornings were wonderful.  There were two that I was not prepared, and they sucked ass.

The evenings were just as stressful...one in particular.  On Thursday, we had rain and storms all day here.  We have a dog door because our older dog cannot go long periods of time without using the bathroom.  Our dogs will bark incessantly if left outside, so instead of paying the thousands of dollars to have their voice boxes removed, we chose the less expensive route of the dog door.  I hate it.  We have white carpet...this does not mix well with a dog door and muddy yard.  I am constantly scrubbing the carpet. Resolve is my friend.  You are welcome Reckitt Benckise. 

On Thursday, I arrived at my mother-in-law's after work to find a screaming baby who had barely eaten all day.  That has been the norm this week.  My little baby has not taken to the bottle well at all.  We gave him bottles throughout my maternity leave and he did ok, and we were really hoping he would carry that on when I went back to work.  Not.the.case.  He is barely eating and holding out to nurse.  And this is very frustrating as you can imagine.  I work 45 minutes from my mother in law's so it's not like I can run home and nurse him real quick.  I'm sad at work thinking about him struggling and not eating.  And, it's certainly not easy on my mother-in-law.  She's tried all types of nipples and bottles and nothing is working.  We had the same issue with my firstborn and it took him about two weeks to figure it out.  So, I'm keeping my fingers crossed for the same thing with my little baby.
So, back to Thursday.  I arrived at my mother-in-law's and nursed my baby a little.  She also wanted me to try giving him a bottle...and that only made him more angry.  So, he was screaming, I was hungry, my first son was grumpy because he was hungry, and my mother-in-law's house was hot as hell and I was sweating.  I was so ready to get out of there. 

(Side note - my mother-in-law is currently going through menopause, and some days her house is hot as well and other days cold.  This makes it slightly difficult to dress my children each day.)

Upon arriving to my house on Thursday, I was greeted by a pile of mud on the carpet and in the foyer when I opened the front door.  F-ing great.  My husband was upstairs washing both dogs.  I quickly realized what had happened.  One of our dogs had gone outside during the thunderstorm, rolled in the mud under our deck, and brought it back in...and shook it everywhere.  There was mud on the carpet, all over the kitchen floor and rugs, and on the walls.  So, from 8pm to midnight, we cleaned up mud.  My husband cleaned the dogs and the kitchen and I scrubbed the carpet and the walls.  Somehow we managed to feed our firstborn and get him in the bed, and I nursed my little baby a couple of times and rocked him to sleep.  I finally ate some dinner at midnight - burned popcorn and an old piece of chicken from the refrigerator.  Awesome.

Thursday night made me sad.  It made me hate the dogs, hate the fact that I have to work, and realize that the few very short hours I had with my children that night were wasted on cleaning up the house because my dogs suck.  On top of all that, my little baby has been waking up and throwing up in the middle of the night which means even less sleep for me.  It was a crazy couple of days and in the middle of it all, I didn't think I had the patience to deal with it any longer.  I can't describe how angry I was when I saw all the mud in my house.  This is my HOME, not a damn dog house.  But, it's my fault.  I should have locked them in the house that day.  Lesson learned. 

But, work is going ok and I feel valuable and important there.  I miss my little boys tremendously, but I'm a better mom because I work.  Friday night was great.  We played with our sons, made a decent dinner, and I had a couple of glasses of wine.  Both kids slept great.  We had a nice breakfast this morning.  Sure, the house is a bit messy, the yard is starting to need some attention, and I have three to four loads of laundry to do, but that's life I suppose.

Despite that my past few days were full of ups and downs, I am lucky and I shouldn't complain.  My heart goes out to all of the people affected by the earthquake and tsunami in Japan.  I am sad for their country and I realize that life is precious and I should really not waste my time complaining about shit that doesn't matter.  This is that whole pessimism thing I inherited from the 'rents...still trying to choose the optimistic version of myself.  As you can tell, I struggle every day.

More to come this weekend...I missed my blog this week.

All the best,
Someone's mom

I ugly cried.

Today was my first day back to reality...and it kind of sucked.  I love my job and the people I work with, and if you have read some of my other posts you'll know I am afraid of being a permanent SAHM, but that doesn't mean I can't be sad.

I only got about four hours of sleep last night.  I was tired this morning, and am beyond exhausted as I type this.  The morning went fairly smooth as I had all of the bags packed and ready.  I told myself I'd do the same tonight and have everything ready for tomorrow, but I'm so damn tired I can't even fathom getting up off of this couch.  I had a lump in my throat the whole time I was getting the boys ready this morning.  I dropped the boys off at their sitter's house with only one tear shed.  It was only after I was alone in my car that I cried...or should I say, wept.  To make things worse on myself (I suppose I'm a glutton for punishment), I played Allison Krauss' Baby Mine and Chris Medina's What Are Words and those two songs made my cry even harder.  I did manage to stop crying long enough to reschedule a dentist appointment and I had actually pulled myself together by the time I arrived to the parking lot at work. However, as I was walking into the building, I realized it was 9am and this would have been about the time my toddler and I would have been having breakfast together.  And, I lost it.  I cried for my buddy.  I missed him so much at that moment. I missed my little baby's snuggles.  I even missed my dogs.


I was already in the building at this point so I kept on walking to my office.  Most of my team was standing near my office and they had decorated it with bright balloons and streamers.  It was wonderful.  And what did I do? I ugly cried.  Right there, in front of my entire staff.  Mascara running down my face and snot running down my nose.  How embarrassing.  Who does that?!  My team was so excited to see me and had even planned a breakfast pizza party.  And I cried like a baby.  I had to apologize to them and let them know I was happy to see them all and I promised I was excited to be back at work.  They all knew the truth though...how could you not?  Luckily I have a very understanding, sweet team, and I don't think they'll hold it against me. 


So, I made it through my first day back...barely.  It was painful, but tomorrow will be better.  And, by the end of the week, I am hoping to have my new normal. 

Working is best for me, and I'm a better mom because I work.  However, I can't type this without admitting I am also jealous of some SAHMs I know...I wanted to be them so badly today. But, it will all be ok.  Tomorrow, I will be prepared with waterproof mascara and tissues.

Off to bed.  I plan to post in a few days about what has become of my dad here recently.  Let's just say I'm a true believer in karma...   My poor parents...so naive to not realize that what goes around comes around.

Goodnight!

All the best,
Someone's mom

Same epic poo, different kid, different attitude.

We had a long day yesterday.  We traveled to another city to do a little outlet shopping  (LOVE Carter's and Motherhood Maternity outlets!) and for a family reunion.  Shopping was quick and chaotic.  I bought a few nursing shirts at Motherhood and then took my little man in there to nurse him.  Love that they are a nursing friendly story.  Their fitting rooms are nice and big with benches, but they have curtains for doors, so the rooms are not quite as private as I would like.  While I was nursing my little man, he had an epic poo.  A very noisy, large amount of poo.  It went EVERYWHERE.  I was a bit embarrassed because I know the people right outside my waiting room heard as I heard giggles from them.  I tried to stifle some of my own laughter as I'm not quite sure how the Motherhood people feel about me changing a poopy diaper in their fitting room.  So, the little man got a fresh diaper, full tummy, and outfit change.

The crazy thing about the situation is that the exact same thing happened when I was nursing my firstborn in that same Motherhood, in the same fitting room, at the same age.  What are the odds of that?  What's more, the weather here yesterday was chilly, very rainy, and very windy...SAME weather as the day of the first epic poo...two totally different seasons...

Yesterday was different though.  I laughed at the epic poo instead of freaking out.  I did what I had to do and was much more prepared.  The first time it happened with my firstborn, I accidentally smeared poo all over the fitting room bench, and had nothing to put the nasty diaper in.  I had just one clean outfit with me for my firstborn and got a little poo on that so the poor little fella had to wear a poopy outfit all day.  Yesterday, I had a plastic bag ready for that poo diaper, several outfit changes, some sanitary wipes to help remove the poo from the soiled outfit, and a much different attitude.  It's amazing to me how much more relaxed we can be with the second child.  It is even more amazing how much more love we have in our hearts.  Like the Grinch, I think my heart grew three sizes the day that my second son was born.

Sure, I still worry just as much (probably more) and I'm not always laid back about things.  I still have a lot of anxiety.  But yesterday, I realized that I was able to laugh at a situation that I couldn't laugh at when I was a new mom.  I suppose I'm just more confident and prepared these days for situations like epic poos and I think I'm making a little progress toward becoming more optimistic and happy too...
The epic poo wasn't the only crazy thing that happened yesterday.  The family reunion we went to was at the world's WORST restaurant.  It was awful.  The food was some of the worst we have had and the service was even worse.  We got there a few minutes later than the rest of the party and we were told by the waitress we needed to order immediately or our food would not come out with the others.  Who cares??  But, she made us order right away.  I hadn't even sat down yet.  I mean, we were still getting the high chair set up.  So, the husband and I each ordered a steak...and we were so hungry and SO disappointed.  I had trouble getting the steak knife through mine.  :(  Before we could finish our meal, the waitress had already come and taken away the bread and cracker baskets, the butter, and several other condiments from the table.  Now, this place was 4 to 5 hours away from closing time and not busy at all...no need for them to be clearing our stuff before we were finished. Oh well.  My husband and I had a great time laughing about it all while we were finishing dinner.  We joked about hitting up a burger joint we saw on the way in and a Ben & Jerry's to get my Late Night Snack once the reunion was over.

We finish dinner and head out to leave, pack the kids up in the car, turn the key, and nothing.  My car will not start.  Yay!!  Luckily my resourceful husband and brother we were able to roll it down a hill, pop the clutch and get it to start.  That sounds easy enough, but my husband did get hit square in the forehead with the back of my car during all this...not quite sure how that happened...  I did freak out for a second wondering what we were going to do with the kids, how much was this going to cost,  blah blah.  But, then I realized, I could choose my own attitude about it.  So, I laughed...and it felt pretty good to laugh about it!  I knew that it would all work out no matter what.  And, it did.  The car started, we got it home, and it started right up this morning.  Fingers crossed it was just a small glitch in the matrix ;)  In the past, I would have bitched the entire way home and talked about how we can't afford to fix it, why does this happen to me, blah blah.  I'm pretty proud of myself for not letting that kind of word vomit escape from my mouth yesterday.

The drive home was another crazy adventure.  We had terrible storms through our state yesterday.  We drove through the worst downpour we have ever been in.  My husband was fighting the 30 to 40 mile per hour wind gusts that were trying to blow us all over the road.  It was extremely scary and all I could think about were my two little boys sleeping peacefully in the back seat.  We were under a tornado watch too so had our eyes peeled.  If you read one of my earlier posts, you'll know I'm terrified of storms and tornadoes, so this situation was extremely stressful for me.  I was so tense my shoulders were hurting.  It was quite an adventure to get home...  We dodged branches and fallen power lines in the road.  We passed several neighborhoods without power.  Surprisingly, everything was fine in our neighborhood.  What a relief!

A few minutes after we get home (and it's late at this point, 9:30ish) my mother-in-law calls and tells me her house does not have power and that she, my father-in-law, sister- and brother-in-law and their child, have not eaten supper.  Then she asks if we've had supper.  I reply yes.  Then she says, "Well we need to eat supper" in a very stressed out crazy way.  All I said was "ok..."  I had no idea where she was going with all of it until she then said, "well we need to eat supper and if you have power we would like to come there."  Wow.  Ok.  At first, I did freak a little.  The house was a mess because we didn't clean up before we left that morning, we had just come in from our long-ass day and were trying to get the boys to sleep, and I was exhausted.  But then, I remembered that I could choose my attitude, so I chose to joke with my husband and laugh about it.  And then it became funny...fun even.  I actually had a great time with our little impromptu dinner party.  In the past, I would have bitched, saved face with the company here, and then bitched some more.  I'm proud of myself.
Overall, the husband and I laughed about the whole day when we finally made it to bed at midnight.  Between the epic poo, terrible service and food at the restaurant, the car not starting, the worst storm we've ever driven through, and the crazy-ass surprise dinner party at 9:30 at night, it was a day for the books. 

As I type this, I'm 50 minutes away from being officially done with my maternity leave.  Although I know it's for the best for so many reasons, I am still very sad to be heading back to work tomorrow.  I am going to miss my little men more than I can even put into words.  My toddler is my buddy.  He's been my little best friend these past 12 weeks.  He's grown up so much right before my eyes.  He is an amazing little man.  Not even 18 months yet and he knows about 200 words, he can tell me what he needs - "I pood, hungy, thirsty, brush my teeth..."  (No hungy is not a misspelling, that's how he says it - so cute!).  As I type this, he is spending his third night in his toddler bed in his new big boy room.  It is a bit early to be putting him in a toddler bed according to some doctors and books I've read...the recommended age is around 2.   He has done absolutely wonderful though and has slept almost the entire night without a sound the past two nights.  Anyway, back to leaving them tomorrow...  I can't say that I will not enjoy adult interaction and my me time in my car like I've mentioned before, and I won't miss some of the frustrating days I've had when they both have been a little grumpy and needy, but I will miss the hell out of them.  I'm so jealous of my mother-in-law because she now gets to see them for the 40 to 50 hours per week that I've had them.  She may be the one to see my little baby roll over for the first time, to see my toddler learn a new word or say his first sentence, and she'll be the one having breakfast with my little buddy.  And, missing those moments sucks ass.  Instead of enjoying my coffee and oatmeal with my little men, I'll probably be eating on the run while commuting to work.  It sound very depressing as I sit here and type this.

It'll be ok though.  It has to be.  I have no choice...a) I have to work to pay the bills, and b) if I were a permanent SAHM, I may go crazy and end up like my mother.  It's just going to take me a few days to accept that everything will be ok.  

For now, I'm just going to keep sitting here with my little baby on my lap fast asleep, and listen to my toddler sleeping on the monitor.  I know I am so lucky to have had these past 12 weeks with them, and I am truly grateful.

Tomorrow, a new chapter begins...  Time to turn the page.

Goodnight.

All the best,
Someone's mom

I'll take the extra pounds.

I'm pulling my hair out.  Literally.

I've reached the postpartum stage where a woman's hair begins to fall out.  Yay.  If you know me, you'd know that I cannot stand loose hair.  It disgusts me.  I'm not quite sure why, but I just know it's not for me.  I'm the friend who will pick loose hairs off of the back of your shirt. 

During this part of my postpartum period with my firstborn, I was pulling out handfuls of hair in the shower every day for a month.  I'm assuming I'm in for the same situation this time.  I am absolutely without a doubt NOT looking forward to it. 

I'm having a very tough time with my body image right now.  I still look about 5 months pregnant.  I have at least 20 more pounds to lose before I'll feel good about myself again.  I have the world's darkeststretch marks on my tummy, and my bellybutton is still brown and sort of resembles an old piece of leather.  I go back to work next week and I'm not even quite sure what I'll wear.  Sure, I have some great nursing tops from Motherhood Maternity...many that I'll be able to wear to work (they make it so much easier to pump at work).  It's the pants situation I'm worried about.  I suppose I should do an inventory of my closet tomorrow to make sure I have a couple of pairs of dress pants that look decent.  I've been putting that off for the past few weeks because I know it will make me sad.

But, in all my current self loathing, I realize one very important fact.  I am blessed.  I know there are so many women out there who have trouble conceiving, and my heart aches for them. My husband and I are extremely lucky as we were able to get pregnant with both of our children on the first or second attempt.  Our babies are healthy and developing wonderfully. 

So, I'll take the extra pounds, hair falling out, and stretch marks.  I'll take the sleepless nights, the spit up all over my clothes, our couches, and our bed.  I'll take the chicken that was thrown in my hair tonight at dinner.  I'll take the countless hours spent washing bottles, sippy cups, and the high chair.  I'll take it all, for I know I am undeserving of the adorable little boys I have been blessed with. 

I'll take it all, and I'll love the hell out of my little babies :)

Goodnight blogosphere.

All the best,
Someone's mom

Temporary stay at home mom, and I'm ok with that. *Warning-uncomfortable story.

Two kids, two stints as a temporary stay at home mom....otherwise known as maternity leave.  My second "vacation" as many ignorant people around me prefer to call my time off is coming to a close.  Back to being a slave to the man next week.  I have mixed emotions.  I love my children.  I have sincerely enjoyed this time with them.  I have had this awesome opportunity to really get to know my toddler.  We have breakfast together every morning, practice flash cards, play with his toys, and snuggle before nap time.  Who wouldn't love that?  I've of course loved being home with my newborn, but he's just getting to the point of smiling and interacting and actually being awake for a good portion of the day.  His personality is starting to shine...right when I have to go back to work.  Maybe I'll go ahead and get preggo with kid #3 so I can have another vacation to bond with my second son.  ;)

Back to the mixed emotions.  I am sad and I imagine there will be a few tears shed on the way to work next week.  But, I'm also relieved.  You see, I like adult interaction.  I actually like my job and the people I work with.  I am looking forward to my long commute.  That's right, I said looking forward to it.  That is when I have me time.  I get to play my music as loud as I want, or have complete silence.  I get to catch up with friends on the phone and actually hear what they are saying without kids screaming in the background.

Over the past twelve weeks, I've been responsible for most of the care of the children, almost all of the care of the house, and most of our dinners.  Normally, the dinner thing is not my cup of tea.  I don't mind cooking, but I'm not that great at it.  I can follow a recipe, and sometimes I can even make the recipe my own and actually come up with something edible.  But, I have burned hot dogs in the microwave and overcooked a chicken breast so much so that the dog wouldn't even eat it.  My husband makes fun of my cooking (I know that makes him sound like an ass but it's actually kind of funny.)  So, I am looking forward to giving the dinner portion of our day back to him next week.  I am also looking forward to him picking up some of the housecleaning.  I am tired of vacuuming and even more tired of being the only one in charge of laundering the 400 tiny pieces of clothing my sons go through each week.  

I have started to wonder here recently that if I'm happily looking forward to my commute, giving up cooking dinners, and giving up some of the care of the children and the house, would I really make a good permanent SAHM?  Sure it's been great not to stress over my job these past 12 weeks and it has been even greater to spend time with my kiddos, but I have had days where I have questioned if doing all of this permanently would really be good for me or my kids.

Wondering this about myself makes me reflect back to my mom's years as a SAHM.  She stayed home from the time I was born until I was around 11/12 years old.  She did everything while my dad worked.  If you've read some of my earlier posts, you'll know that she was not that great of a mother.  I am now wondering if the fact that she was home with us five to six days per week without adult interaction, without anyone praising her for her work, without any money to be able to even get out of the house, made her crazy?  I am wondering if the same thing would happen to me?  Would I eventually lose my mind and treat my children like shit because I would be so unhappy as a SAHM?

I know that my mother dealt with a lot of issues related to her own mother and father abandoning her as a child, and honestly, I don't think she ever actually dealt with the issues.  I think the fact that she bottled them up inside caused her to go crazy.  I think she developed severe anxiety and jealousy issues due to her mother and father leaving her, whoring around, and basically not being involved in her life for many years.  She had to hear stories about how her own parents were sleeping around town with other people (much younger people I might add), staying out at bars, and basically living single lives as if my mother never existed.  I know that she too also had to endure physical and verbal abuse from both of her parents.  I feel sad for her and her childhood.  I know it was tough on her, but one would believe that she would have taken the opportunity to harness that negativity, turn it into something positive, and give her kids the best life she could. Maybe she did give us the best life she could.  Maybe she treated me the only way she learned how to treat children.  I'm not sure if I'll ever know exactly why she treated me so miserably because she will a) never admit she did anything wrong, and b) she'll never ever talk about it.  She goes about her life now pretending that she was an awesome mother.  I am 100 percent positive my step-dad has no clue about what really happened behind closed doors when I was a child.

In analyzing why my mother treated me the way she did, I think it has to do with a) the fact that her own childhood was shitty and she never dealt with her feelings toward her own parents, b) she was a stay at home mom who wasn't appreciated and barely had any interaction with the outside world, and c) because my dad was a terrible husband.  In one of my earlier posts, I talked about how they cheated on each other.  That's bad enough.  But they took it to the next level.  They hit each other all the time.  The called each other every name in the book.  I have a ton of memories of them fighting.  They fought at home, in the car, out in public, everywhere.  They were violent.  I have many memories of my brother and I sitting in the backseat of our car, my dad in the driver seat, and he and my mom yelling and hitting each other while we are going down the road.  I remember being so frightened and my brother and I screaming at them to stop.  I can still see their arms raised in the air hitting each other.  I can see my dad pulling her hair and her crouching in defense.  I can still hear my dad saying he would kill my mother.  I can still hear my mother sobbing.  Worst of all, I can still hear my precious little brother crying out of fear.  He was five years younger than me and so innocent.  Thankfully, the fighting would end though as soon as we pulled up to our destination.  They would put on their game faces and walk in the store, my grandparent's house, wherever our horrible car ride had led us.  I should have said something to someone.  I should have done more to protect my brother from it.


Their fights at our house were even worse.   There was more room I suppose for things to really get ugly.  I cringe at remembering how I felt when I started to hear their voices raise.  I would always silently pray that God would make them stop arguing as soon as they had started.  Sometimes I would just sit in my room and listen...I was afraid to go out in the hall because I knew if one of them saw me, I would be dragged in the middle of it.  I remember one time I was brushing my teeth one night and a fight started.  I got in the bathtub (even though I had already bathed), turned on the water, and held my head under the running water so that was the only thing I could hear.  Listening to the water, I cried and asked God why was I in this family....how did I get so unlucky?

Many times, I would go to my little brother if I could get to wherever he was without them seeing me.  I wanted to protect him from it...I needed to. If he was in his room, I would turn on his tv or radio loudly so he didn't have to listen to it.  I would shut and lock his bedroom door.  I was afraid.  Many of their fights were about us.  I am fairly certain they did not agree on anything when it came to parenting us.  Out of the many fights that were about my brother and I, most were about me.  My mom would lie and say I did something to my brother or to her, and my dad wouldn't believe her at first.  She would get angry andclaim he loved me more than her, then it would escalate from there.  She was insanely jealous of me...and I had no idea why.  I wasn't even that close with my dad.  

Their fights would start with yelling, and then came the curse words.  They called each other every name in the book...over and over again.  Then, the hits would start.  First my dad would shove my mom and then she would fight back.  Then, he would punch her, throw her into a wall, and drag her down the hallway.  Please keep in mind we lived in two not-so-big houses, so all of this was happening within a few feet of my brother and I.  Sometimes their fights would end with one of them leaving, my mother locking herself in a room and crying, or with them coming after me.  See, if the fight was about something my mother said I did and my dad not believing her, he would eventually either believe her or appease her by beating me.  I remember him coming in to whatever room I was in and asking me if I did so-called bad thing.  I would say no because most of the time I had not done whatever ridiculous thing my mother had made up, but he would then call me a lying, ungrateful bitch and beat me.  As I got older, I would fight back, but I was always overpowered.  My dad is a big guy with several years of police training.  He can whip some ass if necessary.  Sounds pretty f-d up, right?

Reflecting back on these fights has also reminded me of the sense of false peace I felt once the fights were over.  When the house was quiet again, I would feel relief and a slight sense of normalcy.  If a few days had passed without any fighting, I remember thinking that perhaps it was over...  Perhaps they truly loved each other, maybe even made a promise they wouldn't fight anymore.   Perhaps my prayers had been answered.  But all too soon the violence would start again, and I would be reminded of why I hated my life so much at the time.

One of the worst fights they ever had almost ended with me calling the police.  I look back on this particular one and wish that I had called the police.  How embarrassing would that have been for my dad, Mr. Law Enforcement himself, to go to jail for domestic abuse?  At the time of this particular fight, we were living in a very small rental house.  My brother and I shared the same room and a bed for a year.  I was approximately 9 years old.  I am fairly certain my little brother slept through this particular fight, although I have no idea how he did.  I cannot remember what they were arguing about, but it got out of control quickly.  There was slapping, punching, yelling, things being thrown around...  I remember laying in the bed listening to every word and praying for it to end so I could sleep.  I remember feeling so afraid.  I pulled the covers up so that my head was halfway covered.  If they did come in our room, I wanted them to think I was asleep.  (To this day, if I'm alone, I still sleep with the cover halfway over my head...I suppose it's a source of comfort for me.)  As the fight progressed, I heard my mother open the cabinet in the kitchen where my dad kept one of his guns.  I thought for sure she was going to shoot him.  Instead, she yelled at him and said she was going to kill herself.  She went outside on the back porch with the gun.  Her sobbing was so loud I am sure the neighbors (who were half a mile down the road) could hear it.  My dad pleaded with her, told her he was sorry, said whatever he could to make her come back inside.  After what seemed like hours, she did come back in, and they made up...and had sex.  They slept on a pull out sofa on the other side of the wall of the room I slept in, and I could hear it all.  I was truly disgusted.  Disgusted at their fighting, the fact that my mom threatened to kill herself, and the fact that they were having sex and I could hear it.  How could they act like that just a few feet from their children?  How could they think we actually slept through that shit?

The next day, as I got on the bus to go to school, I felt so alone.  No one knew what was going on at my house and I could never tell them.  I looked around at my schoolmates and was jealous out of my mind of each of them.  Surely, none of them had to deal with things like this.  I imagined them to have awesome parents who loved them to pieces.  I imagined they had fun family dinners together, played games, watched tv, played outside together.  I imagined my schoolmates having childhoods I could only dream of. 

If you read my post from two days ago about raising my voice at my toddler, you'll know that I'm scared to death of turning into my parents.  In analyzing my mother's situation {(a) the fact that her own childhood was shitty and she never dealt with her feelings toward her own parents, b) she was a stay at home mom who wasn't appreciated and barely had any interaction with theoutside world, and c) because my dad was a terrible husband )} and comparing it to my own, I already have thing "a" going against me.  But, I find solace in the following facts.  I am dealing with thing "a."  That is what this blog is for.  I am only a temporary SAHM, so thing "b" is not part of my current equation.  And, my husband is the complete opposite of terrible, so thing "c" is out too. 


I will not let my kids have the same memories I have of my parents.  I just won't.  It's not fair.  They have done nothing to deserve that kind of life.  Sure, my husband and I have fought.  We've had very heated arguments that I regret...arguments that remind me of my parents.  We haven't had one of those in a very long time though, and I will do all in my power to not let our differences escalate out of control...especially in front of our children.  I don't want my kids to be afraid of us, or embarrassed by us, or feel lonely and depressed and jealous of their classmates' lives.  I want them to feel happiness, and love, and know that they can count on my husband and I for anything and everything.  We should be their protectors and their safe haven from the rest of the world, not the thing they are most fearful of.

So, in an effort to remove anything I can from the equation that equals emulating my parents' behaviors, I will not be a stay at home mom.  I will work hard at home and at my job, and I will work knowing I am providing a good life for my children.  My temporary stint as a stay at home mom is ending, and I'm ok with that.

All the best,
Someone's mom

Baby names...the struggle...and some advice.

Today I am going to shy away from writing about the crap that plagued my childhood.  Although it's therapeutic to write about, it also brings me down and makes me sad and angry while I am reliving it.  I'll continue to write about it because I'm already convinced it helps me to let it go once I hit "Publish" but I'd like a day that's mostly free of negativity today.  I have to go back to work in 4 days and I'm already sad enough as it is :(

As you know we have two boys.  Their names are mixtures of various family members names and we picked names of individuals we wanted to honor.  I love their names.  They are good, strong, and  unique.  Not unique enough to the point where they will be made fun of, but unique enough that they will probably be the only ones in their class and/or grade with that name...and I like that.

When I was growing up, there were always others in my class and grade level with my name.  It was never unique.  My middle name was, but not cool enough to be called by.  My parents chose a first name they liked that was evidently popular at the time I was born...but its popularity did not last long.  I even had other kids at school tell me they didn't really like my first name.  I didn't really mind my name but I played along with them in order to be a part of the group and discussion.  I remember telling this group of girls that I hated my name...but I didn't and don't hate it now.  Oh the silly things we do to be accepted when we are young. 

Anyway, so when I was pregnant with both of our boys, my husband and I really struggled to come up with names.  We didn't buy baby name books, but we did search around the Internet looking for popular names.  We put together various name combination and would write them out, say them out loud, write out the initials, etc.  I had always been a fan of honoring other family members and naming our sons after people we love, and my husband was mostly on board with that idea too.  He in fact came up with my first son's name after months of us struggling to come to an agreement.  We both had names we liked but could not agree at all.  He thought the names I chose were guaranteed to bring on a lifetime of teasing for my first son, and I thought the same about the names he had picked out.  We were even to the point of analyzing initials to see if our kid would be made fun of for whatever three letter word his initials spelled.  Finally, one day he said the name out of the blue...and it was so obviously right.  For months, we had argued over the name to the point where we didn't even know if we would have on picked out by the time he was born.  We ended up naming him after a couple of family members and continued a lineage of first, middle, and last names (in the same order), and it is perfect for him.  He's the spitting image of these particular family members so I know in my heart it was meant to be.  I just wish my husband and I hadn't argued so much trying to figure it out.

When I found out my second baby was a boy, we went through the same thing...only worse.  In fact, we didn't even have his middle name picked out until right before I went into labor.  My husband had one name combination he wanted after some family members on his side, and I had just one first name that I wanted to use desperately to honor a very important male family member who did so much for me growing up.  We both had boys' names picked out and we both wanted our names because who knows if we'll have another boy down the road...this might be it.  My first son is named after my husband's family, so my sweet husband let me have the first name for my second son that I wanted.  Although, he would tell you that he let me have the name so I would stop bitching, but I digress.  ;)

Now that both of my sons are here, I'm really proud of the names we chose.  But, I think all of us moms feel that way.  My sons could be named Blanket (sorry MJ - may you RIP) and Pillow and I would still love their names...because those names are attached to the two most precious things in my life. 

It is amazing how our children give life to their names.  In one of my earlier posts I wrote about how I didn't necessarily bond with my first son while I was pregnant and even though we announced his name before he was born, the whole concept that this little unborn person with that name would soon be part of our family was difficult for me to grasp.  But, as soon as he was born, I realized his name was perfect...the same with my second son.  It just feels so right.  It's a weird feeling to describe but I'm sure the rest of you parents out there can understand what I'm trying to say.

I do have some advice when it comes to naming your children.  First, don't argue with your spouse over it too much.  Pregnancies do not last forever - just enjoy it.  Even though it may not seem like you'll ever agree, your child WILL have a name (you can't leave the hospital without it). ;)  Second, write down all of the name combinations you are considering, then make more combinations out of your original combinations.  Third, write out their initials...and sound them out. I thought my husband was crazy about this, but do give it some thought to make sure you are not setting your kid up for years of ridicule from his classmates. 

Remember that the names that are popular now may only be popular for 10 years or so.  In the same thought, family names may also never be popular.  I am a proponent of using family names, but that doesn't mean I would name my daughter Mildred if that name existed in my family (Disclaimer - I apologize to anyone who is named or likes the name Mildred.  It's just not my favorite.  I'm sorry.)   If you are really struggling and do not like fad names or family names, think of historical figures and celebrities - you may get some inspiration there.  Pick up magazines at the supermarket and check out people's names.  Peruse some of the free historical books on Kindle and browse the chapters for names.

Make sure you give your kid's middle name the same attention as the first name...I think they are equally important.  Remember that your kid may want to go by his middle name in the future, so make sure it's one you and your kid can live with.  

Lastly, a good friend of mine gave me great advice when my husband and I were struggling to decide. She said to come up with three names that we both like and then go outside and shout each one of them several times.  Conclusion - pick the one you don't mind yelling over and over and over again ;)

Would love to hear some stories about how you chose your children's names.

All the best,
Someone's Mom

Don't call your daughter the "c" word. *Warning - not nice words listed here.

Today I gave my toddler a bath. Like most toddlers, he loves bath time. He would stay in the tub until his entire little body turned into a prune. While I was pregnant with him, one of the things I looked forward to was bath time with my little fella.  This led me to register for all the bath toys I could find...and our friends and family delivered. We have more bath toys than the bath toy aisle at Babies R Us. I have put most of them in the bath tub with him and there's barely room for him. He could loves it. He plays with the little boats, arranges the Sesame Street characters along the side of the tub, and sticks his ABCs and 123s on the wall. I can't even mention the word bath in this house without him freaking out with excitement. And, you best believe if we mention the word bath, we had best be preparing his water or holy hell will break loose.

Today was no different from any normal bath day for him. He was excitedly playing with all of his toys, trying to drink the water, and talking a mile a minute to his toys and me. I had my little baby in a bouncy chair out in the hallway so I could keep my eye on him. Halfway through my son's bath, my little baby woke up and was ready to nurse...ahead of schedule (seems to be a theme lately - this kid must be HUNGRY). I turned around to grab my little baby out of his seat so I could sit on the toilet and nurse him while watching my older son play. As I was removing him from his seat, my back and legs became wet. I turn around and my toddler was laughing hysterically and has one of his little boat toys dipped in the water ready for another shot at mommy. He throws another round of water at me and it gets me and the little man wet. Instead of laughing, I got pissed. I raised my voice at my toddler and told him to stop it. Before I could grab the boat from him, he did it again, soaking the bathroom floor and a basket of towels and extra bath toys I have in there. I was honestly mad. I took the boat from him and told him it was time to get out of the bath and yelled that he was a bad boy. He then grabbed the wash cloth that was full of water and started flinging it around adding more water to the bathroom floor and my feet. I raised my voice even louder and told him to stop. Then, I realized, OMG, I sound like my parents. WTF is wrong with me? It's a bathroom and it's just water. He's having the time of his life and I'm yelling at him before it. 

So, I quickly apologized to him and gave him a kiss. Luckily, I do not think he was phased by me yelling at him...thank you God. I sat down on the wet toilet and nursed my son and let my toddler continue his bath time fun. I analyzed my actions. I cried just a little. What had caused me to freak out? I mean, I was really yelling at this kid for the most stupid thing. Then, I realized, this is something I'm going to battle my entire lifetime as a mother. I've unfortunately inherited a bad temper and the ability to freak out on a moment's notice about nothing. Thank you Mom and Dad. Awesome.

Today is another day where I struggled between choosing the loving, kind, optimistic version of myself standing on one shoulder versus my parents who are standing on the other. In this situation, I acted like my parents used to when I was little. I flipped out on my precious little boy for nothing. It hurt and I didn't like it one bit. It brought back a flood of memories that I don't think I wanted to deal with today.

When I was growing up (between the ages of 5 and 16 or so), I have vivid memories of my parents screaming at me, beating me, screaming and beating each other, and cussing like sailors. I was beat for things that my little toddler did today. One time, my mom had my brother and I in the bath together (I was around 7 and he was about 2) and I threw a bath toy at him. I have no idea if I did it on purpose, but even so, I did not deserve what I got for it. My mom yelled at me and slapped me and I came back at her and told her to stop (you have to understand she did this on a daily basis and even my 7 year old self was tired of it and knew it was wrong). My dad heard what was going on, came in the bathroom, removed my brother from the tub, took off his belt, and beat me...naked. All the while my little brother was watching, crying. I had belt marks on me for days.

One time, I wet my pants in the middle of my bedroom floor, and was beat with the buckle side of the belt for that. Ouch. My mom threw shoes at me, and my dad chased me behind the bed and into corners and beat me with the belt. I can still picture the corner of my room and can still remember crouching down into the tightest position I could get to minimize the parts of my body that would be hit.  Now, I realize that many people believe in spanking children...to each his own. But, I was beat people. I was made to wear long sleeve shirts even when it was warm out to cover up the welts. In my book, this was not punishment, it was abuse.

Not only was I beat with the belt and hit with shoes, I remember a few instances of being pinched and having my hair pulled by my parents. And, one time, when I was 16 years old, I stayed after work and talked to some friends in the parking lot for 30 minutes and got home later than my dad expected me to, and I was dragged up a flight of 6 carpeted stairs so hard that the skin was ripped away from my kneecap. I was then dragged down the hall of my house and thrown into my bedroom....at 16 years old! I understand I was home later than I should have been, but I wasn't doing drugs or drinking or any of the like. I was talking to some friends. My dad had even called my job and they told him I was in the parking lot talking to friends because they could see me. I did not deserve what I got. The next day we had family portraits with my dad's new wife's family, and I had picked out a shirt and skirt to wear. I still wore it and wore white hose with the skirt, and you could see the huge bandage on my knee. My step-grandparents asked me what happened, and my dad had already threatened that if I told anyone I would get it worse, so I told them I fell at work. I hated lying. I hated covering up my bruises. For years I wanted to tell what was happening to me, but I was always threatened by my parents that if I told, I would be beat within an "inch of my life."  To this day, I still have no idea what that means, but at the time, it sounded awful and I believed them.


In addition to the physical hurt my parents bestowed on me, I was also hurt verbally. For as long as I can remember, my dad called me a cunt.  I can't believe I even just typed that word.  It makes me sick to my stomach.  He called my mother and I that all the time.  I didn't even know what it meant when he first started...I was probably 7 or 8 years old the first time I heard it.  7 or 8 - still in elementary school!  Who does that?!  That was the worst, but I was called every name in the book...all the way from ingrate to mother fucking bitch.  I've never written those words out before - it really makes me uncomfortable to do so.  I have that little knot in the back of my throat when I think about it.  My dad wasn't the only one doing the name-calling.  My mom did the same thing, but for some reason it hurt worse coming from my dad.  My mom had always mistreated me, but there were times when I felt like Daddy's Little Girl and when he treated me so.  I desperately wanted to be his little girl.  But I felt more like an inmate and he was the warden...which makes sense because he has been in law enforcement for most of his adult life.

So, back to today.  I didn't call my son any names and I did not hit him, but I yelled at him...for something stupid.  It scared me.  I don't want to be like that.  I will NOT do what my parents did to me.  I hated them for it, and it still hurts to this day to even think about it.  I understand that my son will need to be corrected and disciplined.  I'm certainly not going to set him up for a lifetime of doing what he wants and walking all over people, but I've learned from my experiences that beating your children and calling them names only meant for the scum of the Earth is not the answer.


My son is napping right now, and I plan to give him a big hug when he wakes up.  I love both of my sons more than life itself.  I'd die for them and I want them to feel so much more love than I ever felt as a child.  I do not want them to have memories of me yelling at them, calling them names, hitting them, or any of the like.  I do want them to respect me, and I believe they will, only if I show them the same respect in return.

I guess I should thank my parents for teaching me how NOT to parent.

Love your children.  They are precious and innocent beings.  Don't take your time with them for granted.  It goes by quickly.  Don't mistreat them, they will only hate you for it.

All the best,
Someone's mom

Today, I chose selflessness.

Today I am watching my little nephew again for a couple of hours while my mother-in-law runs some errands.  This was a last-minute request of her and I found out she wanted to drop him off at my house only about a half hour before she actually did.  For anyone who knows me, I don't do last-minute.  I am a planner and organizer, and I need to know at least several hours in advance before anyone comes to my house.  Further, I had already planned my day with my two boys and the things I need to get done...like pay bills, laundry, and vacuum.  So, I felt highly inconvenienced and annoyed.  If you read one of my earlier posts about my nephew, he is also a very needy child, so I also felt exhausted at the sheer thought of spending another day with him.  I almost told my mother-in-law I just didn't have time to watch my nephew and had too many things going on, but that would have been a lie.  I do have time and can certainly take a few hours out of my day to help her out.

My mother-in-law watches my children while I am working, and asked if she could be our primary baby-sitter when I was pregnant with my first son.  She is truly a saint.  She has taken care of her elderly parents for years, and practically provided full-time hospice services to both her own mother and mother-in-law before they died, all the while taking care of my son and his cousin all day Monday through Friday...oh, and she runs her own business!  One would think why I even hesitated for a second to help her out today and why I was annoyed by it considering what she does for me and others.  These negative, conflicting thoughts are ones that I need help getting rid of.  These remind me of my mother.

See, my mother would have been completely annoyed this morning as well, but would have called her husband to bitch about the situation and his mother, and then say yes she could baby-sit with a smile on her face.  However, she would then bitch to everyone about it later and talk negatively about the person that inconvenienced her to everyone she knew.  She would then try to get others on "her side" and agree with her that she suffered some sort of injustice for being asked to baby-sit last-minute.  You may be wondering how I know exactly how this situation would have played out...  I've seen it all before...many many times.

My mother has one friend...a friend she has had since childhood...a friend that does not live near her and does not see her or hear from her on a daily basis.  A naive friend that truly believes my mother has been wronged by everyone else she has ever known.  She used to have several friends, but by talking about them behind their backs and accusing them of doing wrong to her, they are no more.  She and my step-dad used to have good jobs for a business my step-dad helped start up and run for more than 20 years, but her negativity and big mouth ruined that and they were fired from their own business.  She used to have in-laws and my step-dad used to have a brother, but they are no more.  She single-handedly destroyed the relationships in the family she married into.

My mother does not like other women.  She could not stand my dad's mother or my dad's sister.  She is insanely jealous of all other women but she'll never admit it.  She critiqued everything they did and swore they were trying to influence my dad into leaving her.  She drove a wedge between my dad and his sister that to this day has still not been completely repaired...and my parents have been divorced for 16 years.  She even had the audacity to talk bad about them to my brother and I when we were young children. C'mom lady, this was my sweet grandmother and the only aunt I had!  I am annoyed now remembering all the things she used to accuse my grandmother and aunt of doing.  She was so full of lies.

When she married into her new family, she started doing the same thing.  She critiqued the parenting style of my step-dad's brother and his wife, specifically his wife.  She found every opportunity to bash her that she could. She was too fat, let her kids eat whatever they wanted, didn't love them, gave them too much, gave them too little, didn't bathe them, on and on and on...  I remember when we first started hanging out with my step-dad's family, my mother would try her very best to bash her sister-in-law to me and to get me on her "side" and agree that my sister-in-law was a bad mother.  WTF.  My mother, the one who beat the shit out of me, called me every name in the book, treated me like her and my brother's servant, and let a dog attack me, was critiquing someone else's parenting style!!  Pure insanity.  Even on Christmas Day...they day we celebrate selflessness, kindness, acceptance, etc., my mother had the nerve to whisper things to me about her sister-in-law at the breakfast table...while she was in the very next room!  She tried to get me to agree with her that her sister-in-law had her daughter's hair pulled too tight in a bow and a bunch of other crap about the children's' clothes.  I was so embarrassed and sad that I had brought my soon-to-be husband around that.

My mother's sister-in-law did a fine job with her kids.  Everyone has their own parenting style.  Sure, she lets her kids eat junk food and run around like crazy people out in public, but she loves them and they know it, and that's what it all boils down to in my book.  My mother talked so bad about my sister-in-law that over a period of a decade,  she drove a wedge so big between my step-dad and his brother that it will be never be repaired.  She convinced my step-dad that his brother and his wife were out to get them and that they are terrible people.  She used her words to ruin the relationship to the point that my step-dad actually faced legal action because his brother accused him of attempted murder about two years ago.

You'll love it...a great story that made the papers of the small town they live in (note - I grew up there and everyone knows they are my family - can you say embarrassing?). My step-dad's family all live on what I call the compound in a small, rural county...about 500 acres.  There are three houses - my step-dad's, his brother's, and their parents.  My step-dad and mom were out in the yard one day doing whatever they do, and they noticed that my step-dad's brother was out in the woods behind their house.  Evidently he was hunting.  My step-dad and mother decided that my step-dad's brother should not be anywhere near their house and had no right to hunt near it, so they turned on the music in their big redneck truck very loudly and blared it in the direction of my step-dad's brother.  He didn't leave his post, so my step-dad decided to get a gun out and shoot toward the woods in the direction of his brother.  He told the court he was shooting at a groundhog and did not know his brother was in the woods, but I know the real story and they do not know that I do.  See, my brother was there with them at the time, and he told me the truth about what happened.  They however think I believe their ridiculous story about that my innocent step-dad was just shooting at a little groundhog and how dare his brother accuse him of trying to kill him.  Do they think I'm an f-ing idiot??  Do they think my brother wouldn't tell me what really happened?  They have no idea that my brother is not loyal to them at all.

The whole thing went to court and my step-dad was charged with reckless handling of a firearm.  It almost went to trial but his brother put on some big boy pants and made the decision not to go to trial and to revoke the accusation that my step-dad was trying to kill him.  At the end of the day, my step-dad pleaded guilty to recklessly handling a firearm and was sentenced to a year of anger management courses and no contact with his brother's family. The deteriorating relationship between the two brothers all started when my mom starting hating on her sister-in-law, and escalated so far out of control that the entire family does not speak.  My step-dad does not even have a good relationship with his own parents anymore because of the situation between he and his brother.  Kind of awkward considering they could all throw rocks at each other's houses too...and there's only one driveway...but I digress.

It is all so sad.  My step-dad (aside from having an open affair with a married woman while supposedly being a man of God) is a kind man.  He has always done everything he could to help out my brother and I  in any way.  He took my brother under his wing for several years and helped him find his own way in the world.  He gave of his time and money...when he had money.  After spending a few years with my mother, he has become a spiteful, sad person with no friends and now no family to lean on.  He is flat ass broke and on the verge of losing everything because my mom's influence over him.  She has driven away any family and friends that he did have (because she hated their wives), and had a huge hand in getting them both fired from the business he had put many years and hard work into.  (In the type of business they ran - attempting to shoot your brother doesn't really go over very well - ooops.)  He has been badly embarrassed in the community - to the point where an online discussion was created to talk about their family, the trial, the business they were fired from, etc.   He now works six days a week for a little over minimum wage and no benefits.  My mother sits at home.  Sure, I think she takes care of the house and the animals, but she doesn't work.  However, she complains constantly about the fact that they don't have money, that they need a new tv or new cell phones to keep up with the Jones', that she wants to take trips around the world...but she is the biggest reason why they have no money!  My step-dad is a different man than I first met years ago.  He used to be very happy and optimistic about life and his business.  He had all of these great plans to keep the family business going and have my brother and I involved in it.  He wanted to buy a boat and a new house and do all of these great things, and now he is one more missed payment away from being in financial ruin.  When I do see him, he barely talks and there is a deep sadness in his eyes.  When he does talk, he's basically telling my mom that "no, we are not getting a new tv because we can't pay any of our bills."  I feel really bad for him because if he had never met my mother, his life would be completely different.

Despite ruining their family relationships and financial situation, my mother still talks bad about the family when I see her.  Over the past year, I've counted how many minutes it takes her before she says something bad about somebody when I visit her.  It is always less than 30 minutes - always.  It's almost like a game for my husband and I now to guess how many minutes it will take.  However, one thing has changed from years ago when she tried to get me involved.  I do not engage in the conversation.  I will listen, but never say anything back.  I will change the subject, even walk away.  I've been doing this for over a year, and yet she still talks about people to me.  Perhaps she has realized that she has lost a connection with me and is desperately pulling at anything she can to get it back.  I don't know, but I refuse to engage her in negative talk.  It's my little way of trying to get her to stop.  So far, it's not working, but then again, I suppose that's not my problem.

The crazy thing is, this sort of situation also rings true for anyone who happens to marry my dad - their lives are turned completely upside down, their credit is ruined, and their family relationships are strained.  Poor, unfortunate souls.  Seems like my parents were in fact meant for each other?  Too bad they didn't stay together and just ruin each other's lives instead of bringing others down with them.

Anyway, now that I've set all that up for you, back to my conflicting thoughts this morning.  See, I wanted to be angry and think "how could my mother-in-law ask such a thing of me so last-minute."  I wanted to tell her no and I wanted to call my husband and bitch about her.  But, I didn't, and I suppressed those thoughts.  You know how some people have an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other?  I have an optimistic, selfless, kind, and loving version of myself on one shoulder, and my mother and father both standing on the other.  I am CONSTANTLY evaluating my thoughts and actions to ensure I am not being like either one of them.  This morning, I fought the urge to be a bitch and to act like my mother would have acted.

I will NOT ruin mine or my husband's relationship with my in-laws.  They are wonderful people.  His sisters are two of my best friends and his mother loves me and treats me like her own daughter.  They have taken me in from day one and treated me like a family member...and even took me back over the years when my husband and I broke up because I acted like an idiot...and I will not let them go.  I certainly do not want my own kids to blog about me in the future and how I ruined their dad's relationship with his family and ended up in some small town courtroom defending my actions against his family.

In my world, today was a small success for me.  I'm giving my mother-in-law a few hours to herself to get some things done, and my son the opportunity to hang out with his best bud.  I did it without acting like a bitch or telling my husband that his mom is intentionally trying to use me and inconvenience me.  I ignored my mom standing on my shoulder.  Today, I chose selflessness.

All the best,
Someone's mom