Thursday, March 12, 2015

Parenting is Like This...

Parenting is like this, one moment your sweet little no-longer-a-baby is snuggling on your lap and tells you he loves you and wants you to marry you.

Then the next moment you are emptying trash and find out that the trash can in his room is full of pee.  And you find this out because when you are dumping it into the outdoor trash can, you get pee all over your hand and down your arm.  And he has no explanation for this, can't remember when he did it, and knows that he did it no less than two times; but assures you that he definitely wiped his wiener with a Kleenex.

www.kelseydb.blogspot.com "Parenting is Like This"
There are days....
I do not own the rights to this image


And parenting is like this, your child begs you to read him just one more story and to lay next to him just a little longer at bed time.

Then the next day he says, "Mom, if you died, I would get to spend all my time with Daddy, right?  I'd get to go to work with him and play with him all day long!  If I went to heaven, I probably wouldn't miss you."

www.kelseydb.blogspot.com "Parenting is Like This"
Kids. Are. Creepy.
source


Parenting is like that.

Sunday, March 8, 2015

Mommy Needs Another Drink

There are times when I am sad that Little K is growing up so quickly.  My heart doesn’t seem to understand that more than five years have passed since my tiny little premature baby came into this world.  I cried last summer as I held him and sang to him one last time in his rocking chair before selling it to a family who really needed it.  I wept as I watched his baby clothes and nursery bedding slowly disappear at a garage sale I held with my close friend Ames (I was so thankful for her friendship and laughter – and margaritas – that day).  It seems impossible that he has somehow turned into this rambunctious, super-hero obsessed, little boy.

In Good Company: Mommy Needs Another Drink


Though he is growing, he is still my sweet little guy – just the other day, he suddenly said, “I hope the family who moved into our old house is happy there.”  He is excelling in school (with the exception of some fine motor skills), and his teacher reported that he is kind to others unless he is standing up for himself.  He is becoming more coordinated and can even do box jumps better than me (not that my box jumps are anything impressive).



That being said, parenting is challenging.  Little K is head strong, a little mouthy, and quite sarcastic (I wonder where he gets that from).  He has no filter, which I love; and is constantly talking, which I don’t always love.  I have been concerned that I am getting early-onset Alzheimer’s Disease because I can’t seem to complete a thought or a sentence and I am continually saying the wrong thing – then it dawned on me that my brain is only able to pay attention to a portion of my thoughts, because it is constantly processing the perpetual outpouring of words from his tiny chatterbox mouth.  I don’t think he stops chattering to breathe and I’m beginning to become concerned about his oxygen levels.  I realize that there will come a time when he will turn into a sulking teenager who refuses to tell me about his day – I’m just looking for a happy medium.

Last week, I had an appointment with my chiropractor.  Before I went into the exam room, I asked Little K if he needed to use the restroom.  “Nope.”  Okay great, let’s go on back.  Fifteen minutes later, after my time on the roller table (where do I get one of those for home use?), I was lying face down on the adjustment table and Little K announced he had to use the bathroom.  I showed him across the hall, and resumed my prone-facing position.  Then I hear the screams.

I ran into the bathroom to see my five year old pee-soaked and bawling.  There was piss everywhere – all over his clothes, on his socks, in his boots, in a two-foot circle on the floor.  He was panicked to the point that he then started screaming, “I’m bleeding!  I’m bleeding!”  I’m not sure where the correlation between peeing and bleeding out happens, but I do understand anxiety and that the brain does weird stuff in moments of alarm.  The walls in that office are paper thin, so I’m sure all of the other patients were enjoying the symphony of crying, complete with the murmurs of a frustrated mother.  As I was pushing the pee around into not quite as deep of a puddle in an attempt to clean up his mess (seriously, can businesses start stocking a more absorbent tri-fold paper towel?), I debated whether I would make Little K ride home naked or in urine-soaked clothes.  Thankfully, the kind doctor brought in a roll of towels with a more appropriate level of absorbency, a trash bag for the wet clothes, and a spare pair of shorts.  I helped dress a now commando Little K (whose tiny butt still wears a size 4T pants) into those men’s size medium shorts – I’m not complaining, they were dry and didn’t smell of pee.  After rolling the waist approximately 9 times, I instructed Little K to keep hold of the waistband and to come quietly with me.

In Good Company: Mommy Needs Another Drink
*I do not own the rights to this image


Back in the exam room, I made him sit on his coat on the floor, finished getting my adjustment and got the hell out of there.  After I apologized profusely to the receptionist (who also happens to be a friend), I told her I’d call back to reschedule and I turned to pick up little K to carry him to the car.  But instead of standing still and holding the waistband of his shorts as instructed, he was carefully inspecting the fascinating drawstring of said shorts, which were now around his knees leaving his bare ass and wiener exposed for all the world to see.  “Pull those up!!!” I shouted.  I grabbed the shorts, yanked them up, and carried him to the car; all while wishing that I hadn’t given up alcohol for Lent.

As if that wasn’t enough, the same day he dropped an entire cup of Sprite in a manner that made it explode all over the walls, carpet, table, and dogs.

In the moments during the whole pee debacle, I failed at parenting.  I know that I should have told him that it was fine and accidents happen.  And I have been that mom – many times.  Remember when he pissed at the library?  I was Calm Mom that day.  But last week’s accident came after a year of no accidents and several years of being potty trained.  I no longer carry a change of clothes for him, I don’t keep wipes in my purse.  I shouldn’t have gotten upset and demanded to know how this could have happened and why he waited so long to go (for the record, he couldn’t get his coat unzipped in time).  I was mad that he didn’t want to stop playing with that dumb Mr. Potato Head and go when I gave him the chance prior to the appointment.  I sucked at keeping my cool.

In his defense, I remember having accidents as a kid because I was too busy playing and didn’t want to stop to do something boring like going to the bathroom.  Also, I always remember to be thankful in every body-fluid situation that isn’t a painting rendered with shit.

In Good Company: Mommy Needs Another Drink
Nice PJ selection, buddy.


Easter cannot come soon enough, because this mommy needs another drink.  Thank you for keeping me In Good Company.



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WE are grounded

For Christmas, we gave Little K Mario Kart for the Wii.  And by that, I mean that Mr. B got Mario Kart for Christmas.

When Mr. B comes home from work and I tell him that Little K doesn’t get video game privileges for the evening, he asks, “Why can’t we play?”

I love that my sweet husband is such an involved dad.  I love that he plays with Little K on his level.

Little K told a lie.  It wasn’t a big one, but he knows that lying is not tolerated in our house.  As soon as I caught him, he knew there would be consequences.  “You are grounded from the Wii.  No Mario Kart,” I told him.  He took the news so well that I was bothered.  It turned out to be a charade.  He immediately began begging to be able to just watch his daddy play.

That night, after Little K was tucked into bed, Mr. B turned on the Wii to play a Mario Kart Grand Prix.  After a few minutes, he heard tiny little footsteps creaking down the hallway.  Then an admonishment, “Dad no!!  We are grounded from the Wii!”  “No, buddy.  We are not grounded from the Wii,” he said.

Now the Wii privileges have been returned and I really can’t tell who is more excited.


Be a kid, even when you aren’t.  Thank you for keeping me In Good Company.



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