Apparently it's normal for 4 years old to have a fresh mouth. However, I feel that Leah's is super fresh.
Supa fresh.
I spoke to her teacher today about it and she told me that it's important for Leah to understand that failure to listen to mom and dad and/or fresh mouth will result in losing fun stuff.
For Leah, the absolute worst thing you can do to her is not allow her play outside with her friends. OH MY GOD THE HORROR OF HAVING TO STAY INSIDE WHILE ALL THE FUN IS GOING ON OUTSIDE WITHOUT HER!
This week has been particularly trying for us and each night has brought a special kind of hell that has made us re-think the decision to add to this family, despite it being way too late.
Tonight Greg is working late so it's going to be just me and Leah from 3:30 p.m. on. I am hoping that the rain stays away so we get some outside play after school.
And other than that, I am hoping that my 4 year old doesn't reduce me to tears with the fresh mouth.
Showing posts with label Ugly Truth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ugly Truth. Show all posts
5/24/12
11/2/11
Life Goes On
I left home at 17 and went to college in Boston. It was there that I wore baggy jeans and Simple sneakers, gave up red meat for a year, stopped believing in God, questioned authority, and realized that if you don’t like something in your life it’s up to you to change it.
I returned to NJ after graduation and moved in with my parents. My dad expected me to follow his rules, after four years of following my own, and so I moved out at 21 and got myself an apartment.
It’s been my way or the highway ever since.
Don’t like my job? Get a new one.
Don’t like my weight? Change it.
Don’t like my house? Move.
Losing my mom has been the only thing that I have not been able to change. I don’t want to be motherless. I don’t want to raise children without their grandmother. I don’t want to not have her here when I need her. But I can’t change any of that.
That’s why I started this blog. I was looking for a way to cope with something that I could not change. All of my life I’ve been lead to believe that I am in control of my own happiness, and here I was, not happy and not able to change it. I felt stuck. I wanted my mother here and there was no way to make that happen and therefore, I would never be happy again.
I was wrong. But I didn’t know it. It took time.
For the first few years after her death, I felt like I was walking through a dark tunnel. I was trying to get to the end, walking aimlessly with my arms out, reaching for anything that felt familiar, trying to figure out how to get out of this dark hell. Every once in a while I grabbed a hold of something that brought me comfort-- a hobby, an achievement, a memory, a good time—and I thought, “Ok, Dana. Move towards that. That’s the right way.” But then there were times when my eyes refused to acclimate to the darkness, and I lost hold of that good feeling, and I continued on my dark trek through the tunnel.
Lately, however, the tunnel hasn’t been that dark. It’s actually well-lit. There are paintings on the wall and friends at every corner. The ground is carpeted and the bathrooms are spotless. The tunnel isn’t even a tunnel. It’s a wide residential street with large leafy trees. It’s a sunny day. It’s jacket weather. My daughter is riding her bike next to me. My husband is holding my hand. My dog doesn’t want to eat other dogs. My daughter doesn’t have a potty mouth. Greg isn’t lecturing me about leaving my purse on the kitchen counter. I make a stop at Weight Watchers-I’ve lost 10 lbs this week! How awesome. Suddenly I’m jogging down the street. I’m waving to people who are here to cheer me on. My family is holding up signs. My dad is smiling. My sister is running next to me. I’m the winner of the race. The ribbon breaks against my stomach and I get a trophy and I’m laughing and we all break into a flash mob to Jessie J.’s Domino.
Maybe I can change this situation. Maybe bringing my mother back is not the only way to be happy again.
8/17/11
We Had A Time
Over the weekend Aunt Abbe and cousin Stacey came to visit. We talked about Weight Watchers and the trials and tribulations we've been experiencing. We gave each other exercise tips and discussed new recipes. We talked about our feelings: how it feels to be overweight, how it feels to lose weight, how it differs from how we thought it would be.
We discussed the next Turkey Trot, and I convinced Stacey to do it with me! Stacey and Leah went swimming for a bit. Aunt Abbe told me she send me some of her old pants that are now my new size.
We had a good weekend, and, like you could imagine, we got to the part of the conversation that talks about how you were not there to talk with us. How you would have been making this weight loss journey with us; how you would have been interested in the 2 point zucchini muffin recipe; how you would have resisted doing the Turkey Trot but ultimately would have tried.
The fact of the matter is that you should have been there. But you aren't. YOU gave up. You looked for an easy out and you didn't find one. And, therefore, you missed out. We had a time. And you weren't there.
We discussed the next Turkey Trot, and I convinced Stacey to do it with me! Stacey and Leah went swimming for a bit. Aunt Abbe told me she send me some of her old pants that are now my new size.
We had a good weekend, and, like you could imagine, we got to the part of the conversation that talks about how you were not there to talk with us. How you would have been making this weight loss journey with us; how you would have been interested in the 2 point zucchini muffin recipe; how you would have resisted doing the Turkey Trot but ultimately would have tried.
The fact of the matter is that you should have been there. But you aren't. YOU gave up. You looked for an easy out and you didn't find one. And, therefore, you missed out. We had a time. And you weren't there.
8/8/11
Age of Non-Innocence
Dear Age Three,
You are cordially invited to kiss my ass.
I cannot believe how freaking crazy you are turning out to be; how I want to kiss you with tongue one minute and taser you the next.
You now know my name is not just Mommy; you heard people calling me Dana, and you figured it out. So now YOU call me Dana.
You ask me if I'm kidding you (no), if I'm serious (yes), if I'm for real (yes), and if you can have candy (no).
You don't push my buttons, you rip each and every one out of my body with your cold sharp nails and then you stomp on them, beat them with a stick, set them on fire and then smoke the ashes. My buttons are shot.
You know everything, and it bothers you that I don't always agree. {Editor's note: This one might be my fault. I have a psych degree with a self imposed focus on child psychology. Back in the 90s we were taught to treat the child like a real person, rife with choices. Allowing your child to decide which shirt she was going to wear to pre-school would help her to say no to drugs as a teenager. (?? whatevs) As a result, Leah's grown up thinking she's an equal part in this family--someone who has the same say in all family decisions. Au contraire, Carol Ann, this ismy mine and your father's house and we follow my our rules, and I am we are in charge and I we make the decisions.}
Oh, Age Three, you are a sexy beast. With your funny little conversations and your cute little faces. And your propensity to throw your backpack at me and hit me when the mood strikes. You are wonderful with kids that are younger than you, acting like an old grandmother who plops you on her lap and pinches your cheeks. And you love to hang with the older cool kids, leaning up against the garage smoking and cussing.
You are pushing your boundaries right off the map and I am constantly re-etching the line in the sand. I fight back and I lose. I let you walk over me and I lose. I attempt to stand up to you and we are two chaps from the wild west at a showdown in the Alamo. Oh, and I always lose.
You are a steamroller in a tutu--a Zamboni in lip gloss. I grow four grays each time your teachers tell me you're an angel. Most days I can't wait to get home to see you and most Mondays I skip to work whistling a tune.
Age Three, you drive me to drink. And I am trying to drink you in. I am told that you're the toughest, until she's a tween, which has been likened to age three with hormones.
I was told that parenthood was hard, and it would be the toughest road I've ever traveled. And I arrogantly nodded my head and rolled my eyes and thought there is no way that something that is a half my height and like a sixth of my weight will even be a blip on my life-radar, let alone uproot my life and leave me a confused, befuddled, frustrated shell of my former life.
And yet, here I am. Eating some humble pie. Baffled at just how difficult parenthood is. How the one thing that drives me up the wall and out of my skull is the one thing I'd give my life for without a second thought in a hot flat second.
Up Yours,
Dana
.
You are cordially invited to kiss my ass.
I cannot believe how freaking crazy you are turning out to be; how I want to kiss you with tongue one minute and taser you the next.
You now know my name is not just Mommy; you heard people calling me Dana, and you figured it out. So now YOU call me Dana.
You ask me if I'm kidding you (no), if I'm serious (yes), if I'm for real (yes), and if you can have candy (no).
You don't push my buttons, you rip each and every one out of my body with your cold sharp nails and then you stomp on them, beat them with a stick, set them on fire and then smoke the ashes. My buttons are shot.
You know everything, and it bothers you that I don't always agree. {Editor's note: This one might be my fault. I have a psych degree with a self imposed focus on child psychology. Back in the 90s we were taught to treat the child like a real person, rife with choices. Allowing your child to decide which shirt she was going to wear to pre-school would help her to say no to drugs as a teenager. (?? whatevs) As a result, Leah's grown up thinking she's an equal part in this family--someone who has the same say in all family decisions. Au contraire, Carol Ann, this is
Oh, Age Three, you are a sexy beast. With your funny little conversations and your cute little faces. And your propensity to throw your backpack at me and hit me when the mood strikes. You are wonderful with kids that are younger than you, acting like an old grandmother who plops you on her lap and pinches your cheeks. And you love to hang with the older cool kids, leaning up against the garage smoking and cussing.
You are pushing your boundaries right off the map and I am constantly re-etching the line in the sand. I fight back and I lose. I let you walk over me and I lose. I attempt to stand up to you and we are two chaps from the wild west at a showdown in the Alamo. Oh, and I always lose.
You are a steamroller in a tutu--a Zamboni in lip gloss. I grow four grays each time your teachers tell me you're an angel. Most days I can't wait to get home to see you and most Mondays I skip to work whistling a tune.
Age Three, you drive me to drink. And I am trying to drink you in. I am told that you're the toughest, until she's a tween, which has been likened to age three with hormones.
I was told that parenthood was hard, and it would be the toughest road I've ever traveled. And I arrogantly nodded my head and rolled my eyes and thought there is no way that something that is a half my height and like a sixth of my weight will even be a blip on my life-radar, let alone uproot my life and leave me a confused, befuddled, frustrated shell of my former life.
And yet, here I am. Eating some humble pie. Baffled at just how difficult parenthood is. How the one thing that drives me up the wall and out of my skull is the one thing I'd give my life for without a second thought in a hot flat second.
Up Yours,
Dana
.
7/28/11
Code Red
Do not be fooled. This child is naughty. Do not let her smile convince you that she really needs a doughnut. She says that to everyone, several times a day. Consider yourself warned.
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7/12/11
Run, Dana, Run
I am having such a hard time exercising. Or, I should say, finding time to exercise. It seems like the day just contains too many other priorities, and when I finally stop for the day it's too late to go for a run.
I've taken another employment position and I'll talk about that at some point soon, but I am hoping that with this new position, some more free time becomes available to me. I have to convince myself, however, that this free time is permitted to be spent on me, and my life goals, rather than using it to spend more time with Leah or Greg. I have to give myself the okay to spend some time alone doing something positive for me.
I've taken another employment position and I'll talk about that at some point soon, but I am hoping that with this new position, some more free time becomes available to me. I have to convince myself, however, that this free time is permitted to be spent on me, and my life goals, rather than using it to spend more time with Leah or Greg. I have to give myself the okay to spend some time alone doing something positive for me.
7/1/11
Weight Watchers
I’ve been following Weight Watchers since May 17th now. As of this past Tuesday, I am down 12.2 lbs, which means I’m averaging 2 lbs a week. I am happy with this pace, yet I fear I won’t be able to hold on to it for very much longer.
I thought by this point I’d have the new points plus system down better. I don’t. I am nothing without my tools to tell me how many points foods are, and I dutifully find myself entering meals into the system with no idea of how many points they’ll turn out to be until the screen blinks out a number.
I have not been able to exercise regularly, and I feel that exercising is the only thing that will enable me to hold on to that 2 lb a week loss pace. I am switching jobs (again? I know.) in a week which will give me some more free time. I plan on integrating running back into my life.
Other people on Weight Watchers see the plan as, “Oh I can eat anything I want--just in moderation,” while my outlook isn’t as cheery. If I could eat in moderation I wouldn’t be here. Clearly, that’s an issue for me. I look at Weight Watchers as the way I have to eat, with restrictions on foods and portions, forever, if I want to be lighter and healthier. I see it as a war that I’ve lost and my punishment is a very tight rein on my diet for the rest of my life; something that I need to comes to grips with and accept. I’ve tried to live my way with regards to food, and it didn’t work out, so now we do it someone else’s way, and succumb to the fact that I’ll need to track, report, weigh in, and attend meetings in order to curb my eating habits for the rest of my life.
It’s almost like someone in a drug and alcohol treatment program--someone who tried to handle their addiction on their own but failed and is now accepting the fact that they were wrong and need help. Quite often we see certain behaviors and objects as benign, and those who struggle with them as enigmas. When I realized that overeating and poor food choices were issues in my life, and made an effort to change that, I began treatment for my addiction.
It’s incredibly difficult to sit in a room with women who are strong enough to make a life change through diet and exercise, which, with all the fast and easy ways of losing weight this days, can be described as the long and hard way. I look around at these women who know that this is the right way to do it and are fighting the good fight, despite the uphill battle ahead of them. It’s not difficult to handle because I’m one of them, and can glimpse 10, 20, 30 years in the future and see myself still needing this program to stay healthy. No, it’s difficult because of the one person who gave up on this. The person who introduced me to Weight Watchers so many years ago, and who went back time and time again. Who saw results- although meager and short-lived- after her hard work. But then who gave up. Who succumbed when the battle became too much. Who saw a light off to the right, rather than through the long tunnel, and went to it. And then got burned.
.
I thought by this point I’d have the new points plus system down better. I don’t. I am nothing without my tools to tell me how many points foods are, and I dutifully find myself entering meals into the system with no idea of how many points they’ll turn out to be until the screen blinks out a number.
I have not been able to exercise regularly, and I feel that exercising is the only thing that will enable me to hold on to that 2 lb a week loss pace. I am switching jobs (again? I know.) in a week which will give me some more free time. I plan on integrating running back into my life.
Other people on Weight Watchers see the plan as, “Oh I can eat anything I want--just in moderation,” while my outlook isn’t as cheery. If I could eat in moderation I wouldn’t be here. Clearly, that’s an issue for me. I look at Weight Watchers as the way I have to eat, with restrictions on foods and portions, forever, if I want to be lighter and healthier. I see it as a war that I’ve lost and my punishment is a very tight rein on my diet for the rest of my life; something that I need to comes to grips with and accept. I’ve tried to live my way with regards to food, and it didn’t work out, so now we do it someone else’s way, and succumb to the fact that I’ll need to track, report, weigh in, and attend meetings in order to curb my eating habits for the rest of my life.
It’s almost like someone in a drug and alcohol treatment program--someone who tried to handle their addiction on their own but failed and is now accepting the fact that they were wrong and need help. Quite often we see certain behaviors and objects as benign, and those who struggle with them as enigmas. When I realized that overeating and poor food choices were issues in my life, and made an effort to change that, I began treatment for my addiction.
It’s incredibly difficult to sit in a room with women who are strong enough to make a life change through diet and exercise, which, with all the fast and easy ways of losing weight this days, can be described as the long and hard way. I look around at these women who know that this is the right way to do it and are fighting the good fight, despite the uphill battle ahead of them. It’s not difficult to handle because I’m one of them, and can glimpse 10, 20, 30 years in the future and see myself still needing this program to stay healthy. No, it’s difficult because of the one person who gave up on this. The person who introduced me to Weight Watchers so many years ago, and who went back time and time again. Who saw results- although meager and short-lived- after her hard work. But then who gave up. Who succumbed when the battle became too much. Who saw a light off to the right, rather than through the long tunnel, and went to it. And then got burned.
.
6/29/11
Listen
Please listen to me, you need to listen to me.
No whining, no throwing, no crying,
I'm tired and I have a migraine,
and you need to listen the hell to me.
When I ask you to clean up your room,
or to come and set the table.
All I want you to do, is to eventually stop what you're doing,
and just listen the hell to me.
Your father and I have a feeling,
you might be an alien.
You scream for no reason and freak out all the time.
Oh, and you never listen the hell to me.
I like that you make your bed,
and it's great that you can dress yourself.
Now stop hitting the dog with your shoe,
and just listen the hell to me.
.
6/24/11
Hair Come The Tears
She had to put every clip in her hair. Wouldn't let me touch one, help out, or make any suggestions.
And then, like a mini Paris Hilton, threw a huge fit when I told her it looked nice.
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And forget when I told her that she should wear it out. FOR. GET. IT.
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It's times like these that make me very scared for the future.
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Jeez, I didn't do anything wrong! Unless you count complimenting you! For the love of god, lighten up!
.
And then, like a mini Paris Hilton, threw a huge fit when I told her it looked nice.
And forget when I told her that she should wear it out. FOR. GET. IT.
It's times like these that make me very scared for the future.
Jeez, I didn't do anything wrong! Unless you count complimenting you! For the love of god, lighten up!
.
6/7/11
No Reason
Things are good. So good. Yet I am still not right.
There are milestones and careers and success stories and new schools.
There are open windows and open doors.
There are anticipations, excitements, and things to look forward to. But I have started reaching for the phone to call her again.
I began running again. Running makes me think of my mom. Dieting, eating well, being healthy, being unhealthy, seeing grandmas, reading about people dying in their 50s, pregnant women, shopping, cleaning, lipstick, the vacuum, and the Gin Blossoms. Everything. It’s disgusting, really.
My anxiety is out of control. I can’t stop thinking about how Leah is probably dying every time I’m not with her.
Songs that have nothing to do with moms that have died make me think of my mom that died. I mean, songs that are clearly about other things I think were written with me in mind.
It’s just a minor setback, and I’m sure I’ll come out of it, but it takes a lot out of me and it wears me down.
God, I hope I lose weight tonight at Weight Watchers.*
*My priorities are warped.
.
There are milestones and careers and success stories and new schools.
There are open windows and open doors.
There are anticipations, excitements, and things to look forward to. But I have started reaching for the phone to call her again.
I began running again. Running makes me think of my mom. Dieting, eating well, being healthy, being unhealthy, seeing grandmas, reading about people dying in their 50s, pregnant women, shopping, cleaning, lipstick, the vacuum, and the Gin Blossoms. Everything. It’s disgusting, really.
My anxiety is out of control. I can’t stop thinking about how Leah is probably dying every time I’m not with her.
Songs that have nothing to do with moms that have died make me think of my mom that died. I mean, songs that are clearly about other things I think were written with me in mind.
Never mind, I’ll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you too
Don’t forget me I beg, I remember you said,
Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.
~Adele
God, I hope I lose weight tonight at Weight Watchers.*
*My priorities are warped.
.
5/28/11
A Week of Firsts: Me
I joined Weight Watchers a couple of weeks ago. So far I've lost 4.8 lbs. It hasn't been easy, but it's necessary. My butt is large, yo. Now that Greg's got a new schedule with his job, and Leah's in full time school, I am really hoping to start back up with the running. Eventually I'd like to run 45 minutes three days a week, but this week my smaller goal is to complete three 15 minute runs.
I've been here before--joining Weight Watchers and thinking this time it's going to work, so I'm not going to wax poetic about how I should be at my fighting weight in a year. But I'd like to be. I really, really want to. And wanting it is half the battle.*
*Total bullcrap. Not eating is half the battle. Exercising is the other half. Wanting to lose weight just helps you stay motivated.
.
I've been here before--joining Weight Watchers and thinking this time it's going to work, so I'm not going to wax poetic about how I should be at my fighting weight in a year. But I'd like to be. I really, really want to. And wanting it is half the battle.*
*Total bullcrap. Not eating is half the battle. Exercising is the other half. Wanting to lose weight just helps you stay motivated.
.
5/18/11
Quick Update
~Greg got a new job. His last day at his old job was Sunday, and he took this week off to do yard work in preparation for Leah's birthday party next week. It's rained every single day. No yard work has gotten done.
~Leah starts her new school on Monday (provided that I actually sign her up for school. What? I'm busy!) While I am excited for her to be in an honest to goodness school, I want to cry because we are sending her to an honest to goodness school. With big kids and teachers and lessons and stuff. She's only a little (3 year old, sassy, smartpants, fiesty) baby!
~Leah third and final birthday party for this year is on the 29th. There is a LOT to do and not a LOT of time. I will be freaking out from now until then. Probably a lot on this blog.
~I joined Weight Watchers. My sweaters were tight, my rings were tight, my shoes were tight. Something had to give and it wasn't going to be my pants.
~I'm going to miss wine. It's no fun if I have to account for it and stuff.
.
~Leah starts her new school on Monday (provided that I actually sign her up for school. What? I'm busy!) While I am excited for her to be in an honest to goodness school, I want to cry because we are sending her to an honest to goodness school. With big kids and teachers and lessons and stuff. She's only a little (3 year old, sassy, smartpants, fiesty) baby!
~Leah third and final birthday party for this year is on the 29th. There is a LOT to do and not a LOT of time. I will be freaking out from now until then. Probably a lot on this blog.
~I joined Weight Watchers. My sweaters were tight, my rings were tight, my shoes were tight. Something had to give and it wasn't going to be my pants.
~I'm going to miss wine. It's no fun if I have to account for it and stuff.
.
4/14/11
Running On Empty
By Thursday, I'm pretty much running on fumes. I'm exhausted, no matter how much sleep I get. I am rushing to get everything done at work before the weekend. (Seriously, "end of week reports" are lame and whoever thought it would make sense to make people complete them is stupid.) I am looking forward to the weekend, but not always looking forward to the many outings and events I have planned. I am losing my last nerve with my daughter, yes--sweet, innocent Leah, since at this point, I haven't seen Greg since Monday, due our ridic work schedules. So, suffice to say, by Thursday I'm not my usual cheery, fresh faced self and could probably use a glass of wine. And a facial. And some botox. Perhaps a Xanax.
But, I'll tell you who never gets tired. Who is never on top of her game. Who is always go go go, and knows that slowing down is for the weak and believes that she'll rest when she's dead! The world is her oyster and her city never sleeps, because PLAY WITH ME, PLAY WITH ME, LET'S GO OUTSIDE, I NEED LEGOS, HERE YOU PUT THESE POTATO HEAD GLASSES ON, I NEED A SNACK, I NEED JUICE, WHY ARE YOU SITTING, GET UP, GET GOING, GET TO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
1) Hope the title of this entry didn't make you think that I was running again. I will be, but just not yet.
2) Sorry for all the black and white photos of late; Greg got a new phone and he's attempting to be artistic with his photography.
.
But, I'll tell you who never gets tired. Who is never on top of her game. Who is always go go go, and knows that slowing down is for the weak and believes that she'll rest when she's dead! The world is her oyster and her city never sleeps, because PLAY WITH ME, PLAY WITH ME, LET'S GO OUTSIDE, I NEED LEGOS, HERE YOU PUT THESE POTATO HEAD GLASSES ON, I NEED A SNACK, I NEED JUICE, WHY ARE YOU SITTING, GET UP, GET GOING, GET TO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
1) Hope the title of this entry didn't make you think that I was running again. I will be, but just not yet.
2) Sorry for all the black and white photos of late; Greg got a new phone and he's attempting to be artistic with his photography.
.
2/25/11
Just Sit On The Toilet Already
Oh, has it been that long? Sorry about that. Let's just jump into some lamenting about my life, shall we?
We've been working on discipline with Leah. I've mentioned before how I am trying to teach her cause and effect, especially with regards to her behavior at daily tasks. I expect everyday common situations to go effortlessly--teeth brushing, bed time, meals--I mean, we've done these things hundreds if not thousands of times, and I shouldn't still have deal with whining and fooling around and general assy-ness when it comes to those tasks. I expect a lot from her, but she's almost three, and she should be able to figure out that when I've said not less than forty nights in a row that failure to sit on the toilet before bed will result in no bedtime gels and ointments, that I really mean that.
Up until recently, she wasn't getting it. I was dealing with the nightly, "but I don't hafta go pee" lament, and I was following it up with, "if you don't at least try then you don't get teeth medicine" and this was happening every night. But, last night was wine night, and I needed to get Leah into bed as fast as possible, so that I could get back to my ladies in the dining room (and my wine) as fast as possible, and, since I didn't want Joan and Gab to hear just how loud my voice could really get to, I vowed that I was going to keep it together.
She brushed her teeth. Refused to sit on the toilet. I didn't say a thing. We walked to her room and she said, "So, uh, I can have teeth medicine?" and I said, "No, you can't and you know why." And she said, "Oh, yeah, I hafta go pee!" and she ran back to the bathroom.
I nearly fainted but kept my cool and the rest of bedtime went smoothly.
A similar thing happened on Wednesday night when she kicked me and was forced to go to bed early. The next morning she apologized, without being prompted, for kicking me and making me sad.
We don't spank, so we are forced to come up with different ways of disciplining her, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit to sometimes wanting to kick in the face whoever invented the Time Out. I spend an inordinate amount of time talking to Leah and explaining, and I have no qualms about painting the picture of life exactly how it is: sometimes unfair and not always roses. So, when she picks up on a lesson like Post-Teeth Brushing Pee Effort=Hand Lotion In Bed, it makes me feel like I'm getting my point across. That my parenting choices might just be pretty good ones. That I'm not messing up this kid too much.
.
We've been working on discipline with Leah. I've mentioned before how I am trying to teach her cause and effect, especially with regards to her behavior at daily tasks. I expect everyday common situations to go effortlessly--teeth brushing, bed time, meals--I mean, we've done these things hundreds if not thousands of times, and I shouldn't still have deal with whining and fooling around and general assy-ness when it comes to those tasks. I expect a lot from her, but she's almost three, and she should be able to figure out that when I've said not less than forty nights in a row that failure to sit on the toilet before bed will result in no bedtime gels and ointments, that I really mean that.
Up until recently, she wasn't getting it. I was dealing with the nightly, "but I don't hafta go pee" lament, and I was following it up with, "if you don't at least try then you don't get teeth medicine" and this was happening every night. But, last night was wine night, and I needed to get Leah into bed as fast as possible, so that I could get back to my ladies in the dining room (and my wine) as fast as possible, and, since I didn't want Joan and Gab to hear just how loud my voice could really get to, I vowed that I was going to keep it together.
She brushed her teeth. Refused to sit on the toilet. I didn't say a thing. We walked to her room and she said, "So, uh, I can have teeth medicine?" and I said, "No, you can't and you know why." And she said, "Oh, yeah, I hafta go pee!" and she ran back to the bathroom.
I nearly fainted but kept my cool and the rest of bedtime went smoothly.
A similar thing happened on Wednesday night when she kicked me and was forced to go to bed early. The next morning she apologized, without being prompted, for kicking me and making me sad.
We don't spank, so we are forced to come up with different ways of disciplining her, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit to sometimes wanting to kick in the face whoever invented the Time Out. I spend an inordinate amount of time talking to Leah and explaining, and I have no qualms about painting the picture of life exactly how it is: sometimes unfair and not always roses. So, when she picks up on a lesson like Post-Teeth Brushing Pee Effort=Hand Lotion In Bed, it makes me feel like I'm getting my point across. That my parenting choices might just be pretty good ones. That I'm not messing up this kid too much.
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2/11/11
21 Minutes
Today, while driving on Route 80 heading back to work from a meeting, I glanced at my GPS and noticed the arrival time to my destination was 11:04 a.m. In that instant, an SUV not too far in front of me jerked severely to the right, then jerked to the left, then swerved back and forth and back and forth for what seemed like an eternity until it slid sideways, perpendicular to the highway lanes, for a couple of seconds, dust flying up and encapsulating the vehicle. In that exact moment, I thought, whew, it's over, when it then stopped sliding, the dust spread thin, and the SUV flipped over.
Me, along with 5 or 6 cars pulled over and ran out of our cars. I started running towards the SUV, stopped, ran back to my car, turned it off, and then ran towards the SUV again.
The driver, a young kid maybe 20 or so, was out, his hand bleeding. His father, who had been sitting in the passenger seat, was climbing through his window. I ran to the other side and there was a woman, the mother, lying on the road next to the back window of the vehicle. One of the drivers who had pulled over knelt down and began speaking to her. Another driver and I ran back to the father and asked him if there was anyone else in the car. He didn't answer--just stared at us. I screamed to someone to call 911, but he was already on his phone.
We knelt down on the ground, our knees in the glass, and looked into the vehicle. There were a lot of papers and water bottles, an open, busted cooler, bags of potato chips. And a vacuum. But no one else. Just the three of them.
Over the next few minutes we figured out that the family was foreign, and only the son spoke English. Mom and Dad understood a little. They were all in shock. The mother refused to stay on the ground and began walking around. Me and another woman forced her to sit on the snow bank and I ran to her car to get a blanket that she told me was in her back seat. I walked over to the son and asked him what happened. He told me he had fallen asleep. I told the father, who I had forgotten most likely couldn't understand me, that he and his family were so lucky to be able to walk away from this. He looked at me with his sad blue eyes and said, "God is here."
It took a few minutes for the cops to arrive. And then the paramedics. And the family kept telling us no, no, we are fine-we don't need to go to the hospital, but it was clear that the mother was in pain, and it looked like her shoulder was dislocated. I looked at the woman driver who had stopped to help and when our eyes met she knew what I knew, and we just knew.
She said to the son, "It doesn't matter if you have insurance or not, the hospital will take care of you."
And I said, "Are you here legally?"
He said, "No."
I said, "Just don't worry. It will be OK."
I didn't know if that was the case. I still don't. But I just wanted that family to be OK. They were all in shock, not one of them crying over what had just happened, just scared to death of what might happen. They kept looking at each other with terror in their eyes, occasionally saying something to each other in their native language. They kept telling us they were fine, but when I would look at the mom when she didn't know I was looking, I would see her wince in pain. And her shoulder--it was not right.
The other woman who had stopped to help asked me if I was a nurse, too. I said, No, but my mom was.
In the end, a cop asked us witnesses, who were down to three, what had happened, and I didn't mention that the son told me he had fallen asleep. He escorted us back to our cars on the highway. And then--
I drove away. Headed back to work. GPS listing my destination arrival as 11:25 a.m.
I will never see those people again. But I will wonder for a long time what happened to them. On a day they planned to go on a picnic. With their vacuum. But never made it.
.
Me, along with 5 or 6 cars pulled over and ran out of our cars. I started running towards the SUV, stopped, ran back to my car, turned it off, and then ran towards the SUV again.
The driver, a young kid maybe 20 or so, was out, his hand bleeding. His father, who had been sitting in the passenger seat, was climbing through his window. I ran to the other side and there was a woman, the mother, lying on the road next to the back window of the vehicle. One of the drivers who had pulled over knelt down and began speaking to her. Another driver and I ran back to the father and asked him if there was anyone else in the car. He didn't answer--just stared at us. I screamed to someone to call 911, but he was already on his phone.
We knelt down on the ground, our knees in the glass, and looked into the vehicle. There were a lot of papers and water bottles, an open, busted cooler, bags of potato chips. And a vacuum. But no one else. Just the three of them.
Over the next few minutes we figured out that the family was foreign, and only the son spoke English. Mom and Dad understood a little. They were all in shock. The mother refused to stay on the ground and began walking around. Me and another woman forced her to sit on the snow bank and I ran to her car to get a blanket that she told me was in her back seat. I walked over to the son and asked him what happened. He told me he had fallen asleep. I told the father, who I had forgotten most likely couldn't understand me, that he and his family were so lucky to be able to walk away from this. He looked at me with his sad blue eyes and said, "God is here."
It took a few minutes for the cops to arrive. And then the paramedics. And the family kept telling us no, no, we are fine-we don't need to go to the hospital, but it was clear that the mother was in pain, and it looked like her shoulder was dislocated. I looked at the woman driver who had stopped to help and when our eyes met she knew what I knew, and we just knew.
She said to the son, "It doesn't matter if you have insurance or not, the hospital will take care of you."
And I said, "Are you here legally?"
He said, "No."
I said, "Just don't worry. It will be OK."
I didn't know if that was the case. I still don't. But I just wanted that family to be OK. They were all in shock, not one of them crying over what had just happened, just scared to death of what might happen. They kept looking at each other with terror in their eyes, occasionally saying something to each other in their native language. They kept telling us they were fine, but when I would look at the mom when she didn't know I was looking, I would see her wince in pain. And her shoulder--it was not right.
The other woman who had stopped to help asked me if I was a nurse, too. I said, No, but my mom was.
In the end, a cop asked us witnesses, who were down to three, what had happened, and I didn't mention that the son told me he had fallen asleep. He escorted us back to our cars on the highway. And then--
I drove away. Headed back to work. GPS listing my destination arrival as 11:25 a.m.
I will never see those people again. But I will wonder for a long time what happened to them. On a day they planned to go on a picnic. With their vacuum. But never made it.
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2/3/11
God Said Ha
Today was such a cruddy day. It started off with me leaving my house 15 minutes earlier than usual, but hitting major traffic and getting to work 15 minutes late. This is not fair. People should not be judged by when they get to work, but rather when they leave for it. My boss should know that I left 15 minutes earlier than usual. NOT that I was running into the office like a lunatic at 8:15.
Then, I stood up to a co-worker who treated me poorly. It was incredibly difficult to do because this co-worker is nasty and mean and doesn't care who he's treating badly. But we work very closely together and I can't be disrepected and I won't tolerate inappropriate or unprofessional behavior. I also knew this this person would fight back, rather than most who are just stunned that you stood up to them and sit there and take it, so I braced myself for that too.
He didn't disappoint. And it wasn't pretty. But in the end he apologized and we moved on.
Then I received the text from Greg that Leah had thrown up at home. When I picked her up after work and we proceeded to Thursdays with Michael, she threw up fruit loops all over Michael's bathroom.
And then in her car seat as I drove home on a long and windy road with no shoulder to pull over to.
I bet only a few of us can boast "scooping vomit off my child in the Dairy Queen parking lot" on our list of accomplishments.
And then I couldn't get the car seat cover off to wash it so I just threw the whole foccaca thing in the garage and decided to let Greg deal with it.
And then she wouldn't get into the bath, so everyone, everything, all of us, smell like vomit.
Oh, and for the third time this week I ate dinner standing up in the kitchen in between catering to my child and her demands for various blankets, toys, liquids, and THE PURPLE SLIPPERS MY GOD THE PURPLE ONES, MOM, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, THOSE ARE NOT PURPLE! YOU SUCK!!!!!
I think that's all for now.
.
Then, I stood up to a co-worker who treated me poorly. It was incredibly difficult to do because this co-worker is nasty and mean and doesn't care who he's treating badly. But we work very closely together and I can't be disrepected and I won't tolerate inappropriate or unprofessional behavior. I also knew this this person would fight back, rather than most who are just stunned that you stood up to them and sit there and take it, so I braced myself for that too.
He didn't disappoint. And it wasn't pretty. But in the end he apologized and we moved on.
Then I received the text from Greg that Leah had thrown up at home. When I picked her up after work and we proceeded to Thursdays with Michael, she threw up fruit loops all over Michael's bathroom.
And then in her car seat as I drove home on a long and windy road with no shoulder to pull over to.
I bet only a few of us can boast "scooping vomit off my child in the Dairy Queen parking lot" on our list of accomplishments.
And then I couldn't get the car seat cover off to wash it so I just threw the whole foccaca thing in the garage and decided to let Greg deal with it.
And then she wouldn't get into the bath, so everyone, everything, all of us, smell like vomit.
Oh, and for the third time this week I ate dinner standing up in the kitchen in between catering to my child and her demands for various blankets, toys, liquids, and THE PURPLE SLIPPERS MY GOD THE PURPLE ONES, MOM, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, THOSE ARE NOT PURPLE! YOU SUCK!!!!!
I think that's all for now.
.
1/26/11
Testing One, Two, Three
Leah is known for testing my patience to the point that I have to leave the room sometimes and scream it out at the dog. She'll ask for something, let's say, for me to rub her back at night, and then I'll say, okay, lie down, and then she'll just sit there staring at me. NOT lying down. So, I'll say, you have until the count of three to lie down or no back rub, and then she'll just sit there staring at me. Not slowly lying down. Not waiting until I get to three and throwing herself down. Just not doing it. So, I'll go to walk away, and then she'll scream I NEED MY BACK RUBBED! MOMMY COME BACK! BACK! NOW!!! BWAAHHHH BOOOO OOOOHHHH WWAAAHHHH!!!!
Now, if you can understand what the hell she is trying to do other than bury me early then kudos to you. Because I can't for the life of me figure out why she will ASK for something then purposely take the steps that keep her from getting it.
And finally yesterday, it clicked. Not what she's thinking, because honestly? I think that at these times she was put on earth to get me back for every single thing I did to my parents growing up. I will never fully understand my child. She's incomprehensible and unbelievable. Like the shelf life of a Twinkie. And Sarah Palin.
No, what clicked was how I was going to handle it.
Now, brace yourself, because I am about to let you in on some genius-speak. From now on when Leah asks for something, like say a snack, and I ask her to sit down at the table to eat said snack, and then she gives me the Carol-Ann stare, I walk away. That's it. Snack's over. So sorry. Cab's are here. Gotta go.
And that's it. She hates it, blows a gasket, has a fit, but then eventually gets over it. And me? I don't hate it, blow gaskets, or have fits, and I'm over it before it's even begun.
Lately, we've been working on cause and effect. You throw something, you get it taken away. You want me to give you something, you ask in a big kid voice. You want lotion, then you don't jump off your changing table. You want to take a 30 minute shower, then you get your own apartment. I'm tired of treating her like some special-rainbow-cuddle-bunny, when I suspect she's old enough to know that she's getting special treatment and taking advantage of me. She's a human being and life isn't always barbies and ponies. Believe me, for Leah, life is quite often barbies and ponies, but occasionally, it's not, and it's best she start realizing this early on.
Last night, there were some shenanigans when I announced bed time. Honestly, I don't even remember exactly what it was. But on the nights that Greg works late, there are usually shenanigans at bedtime. I did that warn/threat thing, (If you don't stop jumping off your bed, you will not get your teeth medicine*) and I watched her proceed to jump off the bed. Twice. And I had it. So, I took the teeth medicine, put it on a shelf where she could see it**, and her told that she wouldn't be getting any that night. She should try harder and listen better and perhaps tomorrow would be a teeth medicine night.
Which she did. And it was. However, tonight we had the back rubbing issue. There's always an issue. We'll try again tomorrow.
*It's Orajel. And she's not teething. But she got it into her head over a year ago that she needs teeth medicine nightly. I don't fight it. I choose my battles.
**I learned this from an old co-worker Jon, who told me that when his wife Janine needed to take something away from their daughter due to naughty behavior, she made sure that she put the toy in a spot where their daughter would be sure to see it and be reminded of naughty behavior/punishment. I've never forgotten it.
.
Now, if you can understand what the hell she is trying to do other than bury me early then kudos to you. Because I can't for the life of me figure out why she will ASK for something then purposely take the steps that keep her from getting it.
And finally yesterday, it clicked. Not what she's thinking, because honestly? I think that at these times she was put on earth to get me back for every single thing I did to my parents growing up. I will never fully understand my child. She's incomprehensible and unbelievable. Like the shelf life of a Twinkie. And Sarah Palin.
No, what clicked was how I was going to handle it.
Now, brace yourself, because I am about to let you in on some genius-speak. From now on when Leah asks for something, like say a snack, and I ask her to sit down at the table to eat said snack, and then she gives me the Carol-Ann stare, I walk away. That's it. Snack's over. So sorry. Cab's are here. Gotta go.
And that's it. She hates it, blows a gasket, has a fit, but then eventually gets over it. And me? I don't hate it, blow gaskets, or have fits, and I'm over it before it's even begun.
Lately, we've been working on cause and effect. You throw something, you get it taken away. You want me to give you something, you ask in a big kid voice. You want lotion, then you don't jump off your changing table. You want to take a 30 minute shower, then you get your own apartment. I'm tired of treating her like some special-rainbow-cuddle-bunny, when I suspect she's old enough to know that she's getting special treatment and taking advantage of me. She's a human being and life isn't always barbies and ponies. Believe me, for Leah, life is quite often barbies and ponies, but occasionally, it's not, and it's best she start realizing this early on.
Last night, there were some shenanigans when I announced bed time. Honestly, I don't even remember exactly what it was. But on the nights that Greg works late, there are usually shenanigans at bedtime. I did that warn/threat thing, (If you don't stop jumping off your bed, you will not get your teeth medicine*) and I watched her proceed to jump off the bed. Twice. And I had it. So, I took the teeth medicine, put it on a shelf where she could see it**, and her told that she wouldn't be getting any that night. She should try harder and listen better and perhaps tomorrow would be a teeth medicine night.
Which she did. And it was. However, tonight we had the back rubbing issue. There's always an issue. We'll try again tomorrow.
*It's Orajel. And she's not teething. But she got it into her head over a year ago that she needs teeth medicine nightly. I don't fight it. I choose my battles.
**I learned this from an old co-worker Jon, who told me that when his wife Janine needed to take something away from their daughter due to naughty behavior, she made sure that she put the toy in a spot where their daughter would be sure to see it and be reminded of naughty behavior/punishment. I've never forgotten it.
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1/24/11
Letter Time!
Dear Horizon-
A $70 per month increase on my toddler's health insurance? Really? Does this sound like a normal annual increase amount? TWENTY PERCENT? Are you sure? Our waste removal fee went up $5 one year and every senior citizen in Sparta picketed for months outside the post office. Can you imagine if the increase was $70? I now need a Xanax every time I open the bill. MY health insurance is going to go up because of your greedy little ways. I hope you're happy.
Dear Salerno-Duane Auto Plaza of Newton-
I swear to Hay-Zeus, thinking of you makes my blood boil. I bought a car from you. I took it home on the same day I visited just to test drive. I played your negotiation games. I agreed to your payment terms. But when I brought my car in to have leather installed on the seats at 10 a.m. and returned at 8 p.m. to find 1) leather, 2) an empty tank, and 3) 300 miles on the odometer that weren't there that morning, I expected at the very least a SORRY. Or a HOW CAN I MAKE THAT UP TO YOU? But what I got was insulting, rude, wrong, and full of BS. I will be coming to get my license plates soon. If your attitude hasn't changed by then, I'll be bringing my two year old. Don't know what that means? Call the guys over at the Audi dealership and ask them how fun it was when we brought Leah to that visit. Hope you like your showroom cars "jellied."
Dear JCP&L-
WHY DOES IT COST SO MUCH TO PUT LIGHTS ON??!!! My god, what the hell, is electricity made of gold????? Due to your exorbitant rates, I now scream at Greg for leaving things plugged in! I yell when he leaves the TV on to go to the bathroom! I wait by Leah's door for her to fall asleep so I can turn off the focacca light she mandates be left on in order to fall asleep at night. I am a stingy, electric-saving scrooge! You are turning me into my father!
Dear Wachovia-
I am happy that you got bought out by Wells Fargo. I am NOT sad to see you go, I WILL help you pack, and I hope the door doesn't hit you on the way out. It's been several years of horrible service, mistakes on your part that you blamed me for, and a really stupid name. Good riddance!
**It was bill-paying night. In case you couldn't tell. Have a good one!
.
A $70 per month increase on my toddler's health insurance? Really? Does this sound like a normal annual increase amount? TWENTY PERCENT? Are you sure? Our waste removal fee went up $5 one year and every senior citizen in Sparta picketed for months outside the post office. Can you imagine if the increase was $70? I now need a Xanax every time I open the bill. MY health insurance is going to go up because of your greedy little ways. I hope you're happy.
Dear Salerno-Duane Auto Plaza of Newton-
I swear to Hay-Zeus, thinking of you makes my blood boil. I bought a car from you. I took it home on the same day I visited just to test drive. I played your negotiation games. I agreed to your payment terms. But when I brought my car in to have leather installed on the seats at 10 a.m. and returned at 8 p.m. to find 1) leather, 2) an empty tank, and 3) 300 miles on the odometer that weren't there that morning, I expected at the very least a SORRY. Or a HOW CAN I MAKE THAT UP TO YOU? But what I got was insulting, rude, wrong, and full of BS. I will be coming to get my license plates soon. If your attitude hasn't changed by then, I'll be bringing my two year old. Don't know what that means? Call the guys over at the Audi dealership and ask them how fun it was when we brought Leah to that visit. Hope you like your showroom cars "jellied."
Dear JCP&L-
WHY DOES IT COST SO MUCH TO PUT LIGHTS ON??!!! My god, what the hell, is electricity made of gold????? Due to your exorbitant rates, I now scream at Greg for leaving things plugged in! I yell when he leaves the TV on to go to the bathroom! I wait by Leah's door for her to fall asleep so I can turn off the focacca light she mandates be left on in order to fall asleep at night. I am a stingy, electric-saving scrooge! You are turning me into my father!
Dear Wachovia-
I am happy that you got bought out by Wells Fargo. I am NOT sad to see you go, I WILL help you pack, and I hope the door doesn't hit you on the way out. It's been several years of horrible service, mistakes on your part that you blamed me for, and a really stupid name. Good riddance!
**It was bill-paying night. In case you couldn't tell. Have a good one!
.
1/21/11
Steel Magnolias
I have a friend who, at 33, became a widow last week.
I have a friend who is 7 months pregnant with her second child and found out earlier in the week that her husband has leukemia.
I have a friend who is separated from her husband, has two children, and was just laid off from her job.
There are women in my life who have experienced death, disease, miscarriage, debt, infertility, drugs and more.
There are times I look at any tragedy I've suffered, and I think, it could be worse, Dana. It could be so much worse. You may not have your mother, but you have your husband, your daughter, your family, your health. Be thankful that it's not worse.
We often look at other people who have endured a horrible experience and think I could never go through that and live. I could never handle that, and then something devastating happens to us, and we find ourselves automatically handling it, going through the motions, making it work, dealing with it, and before you know it, we've lived through it. Through something we never thought we'd be strong enough to endure. And we're still alive. And at times perhaps thriving. And we're stronger than we've ever imagined.
We will all go through our own tragedy. And it will be something that we never thought we'd be able to handle. And we will do it and surprise ourselves.
To the women in my life going through these tough times: You can do it. That's all I can say.
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I have a friend who is 7 months pregnant with her second child and found out earlier in the week that her husband has leukemia.
I have a friend who is separated from her husband, has two children, and was just laid off from her job.
There are women in my life who have experienced death, disease, miscarriage, debt, infertility, drugs and more.
There are times I look at any tragedy I've suffered, and I think, it could be worse, Dana. It could be so much worse. You may not have your mother, but you have your husband, your daughter, your family, your health. Be thankful that it's not worse.
We often look at other people who have endured a horrible experience and think I could never go through that and live. I could never handle that, and then something devastating happens to us, and we find ourselves automatically handling it, going through the motions, making it work, dealing with it, and before you know it, we've lived through it. Through something we never thought we'd be strong enough to endure. And we're still alive. And at times perhaps thriving. And we're stronger than we've ever imagined.
We will all go through our own tragedy. And it will be something that we never thought we'd be able to handle. And we will do it and surprise ourselves.
To the women in my life going through these tough times: You can do it. That's all I can say.
.
12/21/10
The Life I Signed Up For
If my mother had died before I was pregnant, I probably wouldn't have had a child. I wanted a baby, and my mother was going to help me raise it. Package deal.
If my mother hadn't died, Greg and I would have probably taken several weekend trips by now, and maybe even one that lasted five days. Instead of no weekend trips, and nothing close to five days. I don't trust anyone to watch Leah; there's nothing like the trust you have in your mom. We would have been able to do more things with each other, without Leah. Maybe go out to eat more...Christmas shop together...take more trips into NYC.
If my mother was still alive, I probably would have had more children by now. She would have been my house every day in the summer, when she wasn't working, and probably would have used up more of her sick and personal days to spend time with her grandchildren. My nights wouldn't have been parenting solo while Greg worked, and my weekends would not have been attempting to run an errand with a toddler and feeling like I got nothing accomplished.
There would have been more gifts and treats and a lot more spoiling. My children would have run to her when they saw her, got excited when she arrived, and threw fits when she left. They might have even liked spending time with her more than with me.
I never would have been stuck with no sitter. Never would have had to say no to something that I wanted to do because I felt guilty leaving Leah. Never would have felt that all-too-familiar hesitation when I dial a number to request some babysitting.
I never wanted to be a mother if I didn't have my mother with me. I never would have entered into what is the most difficult job I've ever held without her. Never would have created this situation while living 40 minutes away from my closest family, with only one parent who's my dad, while my in-laws live several states away.
And I would have never written this post.
If I seem different to you, uncomfortable, unhappy, and unsettled, you must forgive me. I'm not living the life I signed up for.
.
If my mother hadn't died, Greg and I would have probably taken several weekend trips by now, and maybe even one that lasted five days. Instead of no weekend trips, and nothing close to five days. I don't trust anyone to watch Leah; there's nothing like the trust you have in your mom. We would have been able to do more things with each other, without Leah. Maybe go out to eat more...Christmas shop together...take more trips into NYC.
If my mother was still alive, I probably would have had more children by now. She would have been my house every day in the summer, when she wasn't working, and probably would have used up more of her sick and personal days to spend time with her grandchildren. My nights wouldn't have been parenting solo while Greg worked, and my weekends would not have been attempting to run an errand with a toddler and feeling like I got nothing accomplished.
There would have been more gifts and treats and a lot more spoiling. My children would have run to her when they saw her, got excited when she arrived, and threw fits when she left. They might have even liked spending time with her more than with me.
I never would have been stuck with no sitter. Never would have had to say no to something that I wanted to do because I felt guilty leaving Leah. Never would have felt that all-too-familiar hesitation when I dial a number to request some babysitting.
I never wanted to be a mother if I didn't have my mother with me. I never would have entered into what is the most difficult job I've ever held without her. Never would have created this situation while living 40 minutes away from my closest family, with only one parent who's my dad, while my in-laws live several states away.
And I would have never written this post.
If I seem different to you, uncomfortable, unhappy, and unsettled, you must forgive me. I'm not living the life I signed up for.
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