Celebrating the Yucky Things in Life

If you'd have asked me twenty years ago, what I would be excited about in my future, celebrating poop would not have been on that list... not even at the bottom.  But, here I am, at age forty-two, celebrating my two year old son's first and second successful attempts at going potty.  After lots of "high-fives" and a hug, I pondered on the direction that my life has taken.

I had many delusions of grandeur, but celebrating poo was not even a consideration.  But now, with two kids in diapers, getting one of them to poop in the potty is just one step closer to finding my sanity, which packed up and left a while ago.  I don't know when my sanity actually left, I was probably changing diapers and didn't notice (because when one needs a change, the other one has to have one too.)

I'm hoping that the celebrations will get considerably more interesting and desirable than poop, as my children get older.

But I'm not expecting anything too amazing anytime soon.  One thing that having children has taught me is patience (or the fact that I have none.)  But that's another story.

Welcome, Baby Ben!

For those of you who may wonder where I've been and why I hadn't replied to anyone's blogs or comments, I had my baby and then we had to go back into the hospital for his jaundice issues.  But we're back home and doing much better.  I'm still recovering from the surgery, so it's still slow-going... and with the new baby and a two year old running around like crazy, it's going to be interesting getting back into a routine of some sort.

Baby Ben - Day One

Looking Forward to Baby

Writing prompt by Mama Kat

This week's prompt is:  

Share one good thing you're looking forward to.

Oh my gosh, this is so easy for me... I'm looking forward to having this baby!  Having the baby and recovering from the c-section, that is... kind of all rolled into one.

Because getting past that one period of time allows me to then be able to enjoy our new baby, play with him, learn how to juggle two small children, teach my first son how to help with the baby, hopefully I'll be able to breastfeed this time around, I want to start working on losing weight, getting rid of this really bad sciatica pain, enjoy not having to get up numerous times in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, get back behind the wheel of the van and drive (I don't fit anymore with the baby belly all up in the way,) get back on my fibro medication (well, after the breastfeeding, that is, if that part happens,) and, in general, do a lot of the things that I can't physically do right now.

Because of all the pain I'm in, I can't get down on the floor and play with my son because I can't get back up without help.  The last time I got down on the floor to look for one of his toys, I almost wasn't able to get back up... and it took me a while and it was painful to do so.  I can't bend over very well anymore because of the big ol' baby belly that's taken over my mid-section.  I can barely reach the keyboard on the laptop!  I have the laptop on my lap right now and my belly keeps me from having it too close and my arms are barely long enough to reach... and certainly not comfortably.  (which is another reason why I haven't posted much lately, it's just not that easy anymore! LOL)

I don't get out of the house much anymore either, because I just hurt too much.  When going to Wally World, I need to use one of the electric carts, because my hips and back hurt too much to walk very far.  And that's totally embarrassing.  I hate having to use one of those things.  I don't know why.  I suppose I shouldn't let my pride get the best of me like that, but honestly, I was hoping to not ever need one of those.  My mother needed one and I just never wanted to get that bad, physically.  So, I suppose I should take better care of myself, right?!  But I don't and I guess that's one of the biggest reasons for me looking forward to having the baby and recovering from the surgery... Being able to get back into shape.

Well, getting into shape and becoming independent again.  It's tough having to depend so heavily on others for help.  Especially when I have always been such an independent person all throughout my life.  And I look at other pregnant women (most of whom are a lot younger than I am, which doesn't help) and I see them taking Zumba classes or some other such crazy activity, some of them, you wouldn't even know they were pregnant except for the cute little bump of a belly because they just fly around doing everything they usually do without any problem, and I'm jealous and amazed that they can move so well.

But, no need crying over spilled milk, I suppose.  It's done, I'm pregnant, and there's no going back, so the only thing I can do now is look forward to having the baby and recovering from the surgery.  Then I can move on and work on the many other things that I'm so looking forward to doing... with my babies in tow!

Nursery Rhymes

A writing prompt from Mama Kat

What do childhood rhymes even mean?  Write something that includes a rhyme you used to sing or say when you were a child.

This was an interesting subject and I'm just going to write about the first part of the prompt, What do childhood rhymes even mean?  I've found myself revisiting the rhymes of my own childhood now that I'm a mother and I'm sharing them with my son now.  And now that I'm older, I'm realizing that many of them make absolutely no sense whatsoever.

Take one of the first ones I can remember learning...

Ring around the rosies

A pocketful of posies

Ashes ashes

We all fall down

One of the possibilities for this rhyme (that is a bit controversial) is the plague that happened in England in 1665.  People supposedly carried pocketfuls of "posies" to ward off the smell of the plague (probably the smell of death) and the ashes would represent the burned bodies.  Of course, "we all fall down" is all the people lying down when they died.

This seems the most probable explanation, because otherwise, if you ask me, it doesn't make any sense.  Ok, so you're all in a circle around some roses, you put some in your pocket, but then what?  You burn them?  Something else burns?  Where do the ashes come from?  And why does everyone fall down?  I remember having fun falling down, but why?  Strange that we all used to find this so entertaining when the possibility of what it means is so devastating.  (Yes, I'm weird.)

And then there's a favorite sung by mothers everywhere...

Hush-a-by baby

On the tree top,

When the wind blows

The cradle will rock.

When the bough breaks,

The cradle will fall,

And down will fall baby

Cradle and all.

What a terrible song!  The baby falls and crashes to the ground?!  What irresponsible parent would place their baby, unsecured, in a tree (or anywhere else for that matter) where they could easily fall and get hurt... or worse?!  Even though I've found myself singing this to my son when he was first born, I actually stopped it because it just seemed a little freaky to me.  

This old man, he played one,

He played knick-knack on my thumb;

With a knick-knack paddywhack,

Give the dog a bone,

This old man came rolling home.

This old man, he played two,

He played knick-knack on my shoe;

With a knick-knack paddywhack,

Give the dog a bone,

This old man came rolling home.

(and it continues...)

Three=on my knee

Four= on my door

Five=on my hive

Six=on my sticks

Seven=up in Heaven

Eight=on my gate

Nine=on my spine

Ten=on my pen

This one really gets me... What the heck is a paddywhack?  Well, apparently, it means a mean person, or more accurately, a Brawny Irishman, which is a derogatory term (although I don't know why that's derogatory, but maybe to people from Ireland, it is.  I honestly don't know.)  And in the 70's, it was changed to patty-whack to keep from being the derogatory word.  What difference that made, I'm not sure.  Honestly, I don't think that's what it meant, anyway.  I mean, a knick knack mean person?  A knick knack brawny Irishman?  Neither of those make any sense to me.  And what does any of that have to do with giving the dog a bone?  That line seems to just come out of nowhere.  And then the old man rolls home?  What, is he drunk and can't walk home?  Does he fall down a hill and roll home?  Totally weird.  


I did find that this song actually got a lot of publicity from being in a film called The Inn of the Sixth Happiness.  I immediately looked it up and watched it.  It was a decent movie.  The ending kind of left me wanting closure that I didn't really get.  But I enjoyed it nonetheless.  Even though I like Ingrid Bergman, I don't think she was the right person for the part.  I think she was too pretty for it.  It called for a more plain girl who was smaller in stature, more petite.  She did a wonderful acting job on it, she just didn't have the right "look" for the movie, in my humble opinion.  And what bothers me about it is the fact that they were supposedly speaking in Chinese (although the movie is in English, in order to avoid subtitles) yet the children sing this song.  Did she teach them English?  No, I don't think so.  I also doubt that the translation would keep the rhyme with it.  

But I digress....


There are so many other nursery rhymes that I used to sing as a kid, but that never really made any sense to me.  Well, I suppose, as a child, they made sense... or we just didn't care about the logic behind them.  They were fun to play/act out and that's what mattered.  As adults, we tend to lose that child-like wonder and world of imagination.  Maybe being a mother now, and teaching these to my son, will help me to capture that innocence again and learn to just enjoy life and not boggle myself down with the details... a trait that has become a big part of me, but has also gotten me into trouble a few times as well.

Being Mommy...

Well, I was at a loss today of what to post... that is, until I came across this pic on Facebook from someecards.com.  I think I want to get it on a mug!

OMGoodness, I feel completely redeemed now!  I'm not the only one who feels this way!  I'm sooo tired of ALWAYS having to share with Little Man... just for ONCE, I'd like to be able to eat a candy bar or bowl of ice cream (or anything, for that matter) without sharing!  LOL  I'll usually gobble my candy bar down when hubby's changing Little Man's diaper (our closets are too full o'crap for me to hide in!)

Had some pumpkin seeds today and refused to share (didn't think a two year old should eat those yet, come to think of it, I probably shouldn't have either, because of all the salt) and you'd think the world was ending!  I think that was the most traumatic experience of his little life, to date!  I mean, the face on that little guy!  I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry with him, it was so pathetic.  I actually tried to get a picture of his little face with the red eyes and the tears, but none of them did him or his tantrum justice.

So, does this make me a bad mother?  No, but it sure feels like it!  It's so hard to not spoil such an adorable child, and that's probably why his tantrum was so bad... because he's terribly spoiled.  Here's a pic of him at his Big Bubby's birthday party, all dirty, playing outside... he's ALL boy!

May 2012

And here's another one... again, dirty, after playing outside in the mud.  It had just rained and daddy took him out into the yard to explore.

Who could resist that face?!  Not me... not daddy... not big bubby... which is why he's spoiled!

Speaking of "spoiled"... as I attached the pics above, I hear Little Man at the bedroom door, trying to get out.  It's not closed all the way, just opened a crack, so I'm wondering why he's not just coming on out, like he does on so many occasions.  Well, he had his Blanky and his "Piboh" (pillow) and with both in his little hands, he couldn't maneuver his way out of the bedroom.  He just melts my heart.  Never thought I could love someone as much as I love my son!

It's National Repeat Day!  

It's National Repeat Day!  

It's National Repeat Day!  

It's National Repeat Day!  

It's National Repeat Day!  

So, in honor of the "National Repeat Day," I'm repeating a post that many of you enjoyed before... 


Blog prompt from Mama Kat

4.) Many of us like to poke fun at some of the things that drive us crazy as parents…let’s flip the script, what are 10 things you love about motherhood?

1. Fishy kisses from my Buggaboo.  He loves to give kisses and uses any excuse, such as “I’m sorry”  “Hi”  “Bye bye”  or he’ll just climb up into my lap and give me three or four kisses and then get back down.  And when I’m upset/crying, he comes right to me and gives me fishy kisses until I start laughing.  It’s hard not to, because it’s so cute!
2. How my little man is turning into such a Mommy’s helper… or at least, he’s trying to.  He’s only 16 months old right now, but he’s already trying to “help” out now and then.
3. My hubby’s saying:  “If Momma’s not happy, no one’s happy!”  LOL  He and our oldest (who’s 17 going on 35) like to joke about that.
4. Having people understand why I’m so tired all the time.  All I say is that I have a teenager and a 16 month old and everyone gives me the sympathetic looks and sounds.
5. The power of “Because I said so!”
6. The ego boost that kids give you when they think you know everything.  (this is usually right before I have to burst that bubble, but for a brief moment, the exhilaration is intoxicating.)
7. The “Baby on Board” sign in the back window of the van.  Call me crazy, but I’ve always wanted one of those!
8. Rekindling imagination and the Legendary Characters of Santa, The Tooth Fairy, The Easter Bunny, etc. 
9. Bringing out the Inner-Child again.  I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but It’s so fun to play with all the cool toys that are out there now, that they didn’t make when I was little.
10. Authority of Motherhood to clean anybody's face with spit.

10 things I love about motherhood

Blog prompt from Mama Kat

4.) Many of us like to poke fun at some of the things that drive us crazy as parents…let’s flip the script, what are 10 things you love about motherhood?

1. Fishy kisses from my Buggaboo.  He loves to give kisses and uses any excuse, such as “I’m sorry”  “Hi”  “Bye bye”  or he’ll just climb up into my lap and give me three or four kisses and then get back down.  And when I’m upset/crying, he comes right to me and gives me fishy kisses until I start laughing.  It’s hard not to, because it’s so cute!
2. How my little man is turning into such a Mommy’s helper… or at least, he’s trying to.  He’s only 16 months old right now, but he’s already trying to “help” out now and then.
3. My hubby’s saying:  “If Momma’s not happy, no one’s happy!”  LOL  He and our oldest (who’s 17 going on 35) like to joke about that.
4. Having people understand why I’m so tired all the time.  All I say is that I have a teenager and a 16 month old and everyone gives me the sympathetic looks and sounds.
5. The power of “Because I said so!”
6. The ego boost that kids give you when they think you know everything.  (this is usually right before I have to burst that bubble, but for a brief moment, the exhilaration is intoxicating.)
7. The “Baby on Board” sign in the back window of the van.  Call me crazy, but I’ve always wanted one of those!
8. Rekindling imagination and the Legendary Characters of Santa, The Tooth Fairy, The Easter Bunny, etc. 
9. Bringing out the Inner-Child again.  I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but It’s so fun to play with all the cool toys that are out there now, that they didn’t make when I was little.
10. Authority of Motherhood to clean anybody's face with spit.

You know you're a mother when...

1.      You use your spit to clean off someone’s face… and it’s not necessarily your child! (It might even be an adult!)

2.      Your purse spills over and out comes nothing but baby wipes, cheerios, toys from numerous kids meals and a miscellaneous sock that would only fit the foot of a toddler… wallet?  What wallet?  Ahh, crap!

3.      You dig deeper into your purse to find the above lost wallet only to find… eeewwww, gross!  Where are those wipes?!?!

4.      You realize that you have no idea how you survived before you had wipes.

5.      You follow the disastrous trail of toys and clothes in order to find a child.

6.      The kids are constantly losing the tv remotes and you dig into the couch to find them and… eeeeewwwwww, Honey, bring me a wipe!

7.      You realize your mother’s curse worked!  Thanks a lot, Mom!  :-P

8.      You automatically move everything away from the edges of tables, counters, etc., even when in the homes of people who don’t have kids.

9.      You see everything as a hazard… this’ll poke an eye out, that’s slippery and someone will fall, this can get knocked off, that’s too dangerous over there…. OMG my house is a death trap!!  How on earth has anyone survived this far?!?!

10.  You realize you can’t even pee in peace, so you find your iPod, lock yourself in the bathroom and pray that the house doesn’t catch fire and no one bleeds to death for the five minutes you desire of “Me time” only to take the headphones off out of guilt.

11.  You realize that you’re totally exhausted, it’s only 5 o’clock, you haven’t even started dinner and you haven’t accomplished anything other than running after a munchkin, cleaning up after a munchkin, and keeping said little mess-maker from killing himself by diving off of furniture!

12.  You realize it’s ONLY 5 o’clock and you’re ready for bed, even if the kids aren’t!

13.  Your little one comes up to you and gives you a huge hug and the cutest little fishy kiss and the whole day melts away with his giggle.

Inspired by Mama Kat

Scarred

I look at myself, at the scars left from years and years ago.  Some are faded, others very vibrant.  My hands have some that are easy to see, one when I used a knife and cut toward my hand even though I knew better.  I had to learn the hard way. 

Other scars have faded to nothing.  I had three holes put into my left hand when dad and I had played Monkey in the Middle with our dog.  She was the Monkey in the Middle as we tossed a ball back and forth.  Then the ball and her mouth came down into my hand at the same time.  Three holes, almost all the way through.  I was two years old.  Our dog didn’t mean it, it was an accident, and honestly, it didn’t even hurt, strangely enough.  My parents were horrified, of course.  That was the end of our game.

I have scars on my knees from climbing trees.  Oh, how I used to climb as high as the roof and jump down where my parents couldn’t see me.  I have bad feet now, I’m wondering if that’s one of the reasons why. 

Then there are the emotional scars.  My mom and dad deaths.  Dad died first.  My divorce to my first husband.  Numerous breakups, too many to count.  Pets dying or having to get rid of them for one reason or another.  Depression at different times in my life. 

Of course, there are many more scars of different types, too numerous to list. Now I look at my baby, (oh, and let’s not forget those scars!) innocent, loving, funny, adorable, and I think of how much his daddy and I were daredevils when we were kids and all the scars both of us have, both physical and emotional, and I get scared… no, terrified!  He’s going to get hurt, he’s going to get scars, I can’t imagine the terror my parents felt when my hand went into our dog’s mouth.  But I’m sure I’ll probably find out one way or another. 

I wish I could call my parents and apologize to them for putting them through such pain, seeing me go through what I went through.  But my mom’s philosophy was that I had to learn from my own mistakes.  No matter what she could possibly say, I had to experience the pain on my own, or otherwise I wouldn’t actually learn anything.  She never interfered.  She sat and watched, and was always there to pick up the pieces when I needed her, but she let me fly from the nest on her own.  How strong she was to do that.  I know she worried beyond belief.  She was overprotective of me when I was little, in some ways.  But in others, she allowed me to experience life and pain, but also happiness and love.

Mom always said, what doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger.  Great, what doesn’t kill you?!  Are you kidding me?!  What about the broken bones, teeth knocked out, God forbid getting maimed,  mental issues, therapy, etc….. Aaarrrggghhh!!  I’m not going to survive this motherhood thing.  I’m going to curl into a little ball until it’s over.  OMG, that’s going to be a long time!  Maybe I’ll just put my baby into a protective bubble and not ever let him get hurt…. Of course, then he’ll never experience love and kindness and all the good things in life either.  Hmmm… not such a good idea, either.  How did my mother do it?!  Amazingly she and I both survived.  How, I don’t know.  But it’s my turn to find out. 

Life is a journey, not a destination. And I plan to have a great time with my family on this journey.  Oh, we’ll have our hard times, our bad times, and we’ll all get scarred.  But we’ll have good times as well and we’ll all be better people in the long run. 

Our scars tell stories of our lives.  Display them proudly.