Being good means being very bad

Being a good parent means being the worst one ever in the eyes of my five-year-old. 

Today started out normal.  Littleman decked himself out in full "super spy" garb - goggles, cape, binoculars, and walkie talkies.  He was his sweet, creative, fun little self.  Then....dare I write it out for all to see? Well, a good chunk of my mommy friends were there to witness his heinous behavior so why not the world?

We met a whole bunch of friends at a new McDonald's at 10 to play.  Liam was fine.  Playing and whatnot.  Just as we grown ups got ready to purchase the whole lot of kids happy meals (super hero toy, by the way) a mother walks up to me and says, "Is this your son?"

FREEZE: Ridiculously, my honest first thought was, "Why yes, what adorable thing did he do that you want to come over and acknowledge?"  Ahhhh....I am SUCH a hopeless hoper.  Less than a second after that thought I sighed inwardly as I looked down at my beautiful boy whom I love so much.  Open fire, lady.

"He just spit in my daughter's face." I gasped.  Shocked, horrified, mortified, embarrassed, so, so utterly disappointed.  Really? Why Liam? Why?* 

I made him apologize, I gathered up Finn, said a quick good bye to my friends, amazingly snuck in a refill of diet coke, and dragged a hysterical, screaming Liam out to the car.  No happy meal.  No screaming (on my part). No discussion.  As we approached the car he screamed a litany of heartbreaking things that I will list below:

"I will never get in that car. I will never go anywhere with you again."

"You are the worst mommy in the whole world."

"I don't want to live with you anymore. I don't want to live."

"I don't want to want you anymore. I don't love you either. You are making this the worst day in the world."

"I want to go back to our old house and live there ALONE."

(Technically, all of those sentences should be written completely in CAPS because each of them was screamed at the top of his lungs, his face a shade of red tomatoes would envy and the vein on his neck looking like it was about to bust open and kill us both for sure.)

In addition to the verbal attack, he hit me a couple of times while I was strapping in Finn.  Not hard, more like frustrated swats...but still.  I felt assaulted. I wanted to cry.  I wanted to slap him.  I wanted to scream in his face to stop talking to me like that.  But, I didn't do any of those things.  I picked him up and forcibly buckled him in while he struggles (mostly just crying, though at this point) and said, "I love you and the things you are saying are making me very, very sad." 

I drove home, white knuckled, sucking on my diet coke and wishing being a good parent didn't have to feel so stinking bad.

*In case you were wondering why Liam spit at that girl his reply was, "She was nasty to me."  That's it. No details, nothing.  We had a chat about other ways to respond when someone is "nasty." Use words, move away from that person, come to mom....we'll see....

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The hardest thing

It is hard to exercise every day (good lord, it's hard to excercise just once a week, for me, anyway).

It is hard to say no to french fries or most things containing chocolate.

It is hard to stay in touch with all of my family and friends, all of whom I miss very much and think of regularly.

It is hard to iron a shirt.

It is hard (for me) to keep a car clean and scratch (and let's face it, dent) free.

It is hard to make decisions like going back to work and who will take care of my baby if I do.

It is hard to find your keys in the dark.

It is hard when you are not on the same page as your spouse.

But the hardest thing, the hardest thing in the world is being a good parent.  Being a consistent parent.  I was going to write discipline is the hardest thing, but really it's consistency.  Getting your six month old to sleep through the night in his crib is not about discipline, it takes consistency.  You think parenting starts when your kids start misbehaving, but no, it's the moment they need you to step outside your comfort zone...which is pretty much on day one.  I have struggled with this (as many of you know).  But Finn, now 11 months old, does sleep all night in his crib...but that's not why I am writing. 

I am writing because I am bewildered.  My little boy, my Liam, my angel, my sweet little cherub of boyish goodness screamed at me today in a way that made me want to crawl inside my skin and hide.  I was speechless.  I felt helpless.  I wanted the Super Nanny to swoop in with her little DVD player, point to exactly what I did wrong and teach me how to fix it.  I wanted to hide from the stares from the other moms at the pool...the ones with their perfect kids (ha!).  I wanted him to just listen.

I am told it is "the age." I am skeptical.  Littleman has always been dramatic...dramatic may even be an understatement.  Lately, however, when he is being disciplined or told we are doing this instead of that, he sometimes has a complete meltdown.  Meltdowns that involve him staring up at me and screaming.  The worst, worst, WORST part of the screaming is that he is using MY words, MY tone, MY everything...only louder, faster, and with an edge of hysteria that can make your skin crawl (I kid you not).

Littleman did this to me at our community pool today.  He had pushed a younger friend of his underwater.  Not exactly in a malicious way, these two boys are known for rough-housing, but still, you just can't do that.  The consequence was he had to get out of the pool and watch every one else swim for the twenty or so minute duration of our time at the pool.  Naturally, he was very upset and when it finally dawned on him that I was not going to let him back in the pool, he freaked out.  He was making such a fuss (disturbing all the other people at the pool with his cries) I sent him to the men's room (ten feet from where we were sitting) to "scream it out."  To put it bluntly, it was a freaking nightmare.  He would open the men's room door and shout, "I don't want to be your son!" And other equally debasing, humiliating, hysterical things.

What do I do?  How do I deal with that? We were already leaving the pool.  He's lost his TV priviledges for the entire week.  We emptied his "good choices" jar, which was nearly full, so there will be no trip to Chuck E Cheese in his near future. (Which is a crying shame b/c it is really hot here right now.)

Ug.

I know I am not a bad parent.  And I know no one is perfect.  And I know we are all trying to do our very best by our children (which gets complicated when you and your spouse aren't exactly on the same page, at least not every day).  I want nothing more than Littleman's happiness and good health.  Oh, how that sounds so simple....if only it were.

So tomorrow is a new day.  A clean slate? Well...not exactly.  A chance for a better ending? Sure.  An opportunity for me to control the tone of my voice? Absolutely.  A diet coke? Undoubtedly.

 

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I swear I didn't know...

Alright...I KNOW I am big, close to the biggest I have ever been.  It's embarrassing, slightly depressing, but it is what it is.  I have every intention of getting back in shape...you know...just like most of the obese Americans stomping around our country.  I was fit once and I will be again, it's just not happening right now.  The reason I bring this up is because today I asked  Bill to take some video of Finn taking his first steps. (Yes, he is starting to take those first adorable little steps!!!)  Naturally, because we had the camera on, Finn did not really take ANY steps.  However, the footage we did get is pretty funny and, since most of you are far away, I didn't think you'd want to miss this new level of cuteness in Finn's life.  Unfortunately, when I saw the footage I was literally SHOCKED at the size of my...well...my boobs.  AND, I honestly did not know how much they hung out of the particular tank top I am wearing today.  Really, I swear.  I am not pleased with the way I look OR how much of my milk factory you are about to see.  But, because I am an open book and there isn't a thing about me you don't know already, here's a video of FINN - try to ignore the ginormo-mama he is loving on.

*Disclaimer: Bill and I usually stick to a 20 second rule on most videos.  We have gone over a bit on all of ones you are about to see.  None are longer than a minute, though.  

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Next is Little Finn being a little fussy in the high chair.  He DOES try to blow mama a kiss though and it's super cute.

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And not to be forgotten, here's 18 or so seconds of Liam running on the shores of New Jersey.  I like this clip so much because it shows Liam's complete love of the ocean experience.  I wish we lived closer to the sea.  He clearly can be his true self whilst running in the waves....

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oh the drama....

This one was too good to not write about.

So.  Liam has been really revving up his drama-meter these days.  My little munchkin has always been quite the firey one, but, three weeks with my mom - being doted on, staying up late, traveling, all that nonsense, along with school ending has added fuel to an already blazing fire.  Tonight, however, was really special.

Allow me to preface with this.  Every night, after Finn goes to bed, we let Liam stay up with us, for some one on one time and usually, what he refers to as, "a special treat."  It's almost always a no sugar added fruit pop, but sometimes, if its early enough, it's a bowl of popcorn which we all eat together on the couch in front of the boob tube (the TV, not me in a tube top). Tonight, however, Liam lost this priviledge because just as I was getting the boys out of the tub, he decided to snatch a rubber duckie out of Finn's little mouth for no good reason at all.  This was the cherry on top of a day filled with similar little trangressions against the helpless baby brother.

While I put Finn to bed I could hear Liam wailing in his room about his lost special treat. (SO pathetic) He was under his covers crying and moaning about how "his wishes will never come true" and "I'm just no good at being a kid..." Where does he get this stuff?  Anyway, I came into his room, explained that it's hard to make good choices all day long, mommy and daddy understand, and tomorrow we could have popcorn together if he's nicer to his brother.  Then we headed out to the kitchen to make some wrapping paper for upcoming birthdays.

Okay, this is where the story picks up.  As I was cleaning up, Liam went into another room and started singing.  You know that kind of mindless, little kid, stream of thought-type singing? Bill lowers the TV volume and we hear snippets of things like, "I want to go back to NY and live in the country all by myself. I am only a kid. I am five and I am my mom's son, but I want to go away and be by myself all the way in New York...." You get the picture. 

Thinking I am oh-so-clever, instead of saying, "Ok, time for bed." I say, "Alright, Liam, go pack your suitcase.  I got you a ticket, you can go to New York all by yourself.  We will miss you."  And Liam, thinking HE is oh-so-clever, goes to his closet, pulls out his little suitcase, throws in a few beloved items (stuffed Mickey Mouse, a superman b-day card from Luke, a rock) and heads out to the garage.

Bill and I just stared at the door and waited.  Two whole minutes go by and Bill can't take it. He goes to the door, opens it, and in runs a tear filled Liam.  Throwing his suitcase to the floor, he is BALLING, sobbing, crying his eyes out.  "I don't want to go alone. I want to be together! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!!!"  

Oh. My. God.  Later, when he calmed down, he told us that "When I got to the airport I changed my mind and drove back. I don't want to go anywhere without my family."  His imagination took him that far!  Man, I love that kid.  He may be dramatic, but I wouldn't trade him for the world.  He hugged me so hard for a solid ten minutes.  I felt a little bad that it I let him take it that far...but sometimes you have to really let a point sink in.  I do hope he'll be nicer to Finn tomorrow....

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Things I Hate to Admit...

Yeah, so this is going to be one of those vent-type posts, so go ahead and skip it if you're not in the mood.  There are some lovely pictures below from my previous post.

I hate to admit:

-that I have kept my size 8 and size 6 Ann Taylor skirts this long.  What on earth was I thinking??? Did I really believe I would ever fit into those adorable skirts again? I filled THREE ginormous garbage bags with clothes and shoes two days ago.  I literally tried on every top and most of the pants/skirts I could just toss in the good-will pile.  I do plan to lost weight (when have I not?), but let's be realistic.  Size 6??? I don't think so.  I'll be happy with 10 - thrilled.  Which leads me to...

-my relationship with food continues to be the worst one in my life.  I am happy to report that I have pretty healthy relationships with my parents, siblings, and friends, but food? No.  Which leads me to...

-being a stay at home mom has made me lazy.  It's an embarrassing and ugly truth I really don't like to face.  When I was working I was my best self.  I seemed to manage so much more AND keep the house clean (relatively).  I am home all day and my house is a mess, I hardly ever exercise, and what is my excuse???  I haven't taught Liam to read or even add - what am I doing with all this time? This gift?  Facebooking? It disgusts me that I let myself get like this. 

-Finn is weaning himself.  What I hate about it is that it feels completely natural.  He's happy and growing.  I've been giving him formula to get him fatter and used to it (he inevitably needed to be on it by one-ish anyway).  I imagined that weaning was going to be this painful process for him, that he'd be crying and begging for my boob.  I didn't realize, since this is my first time, that he would just decide that he was done with me.  He nurses like a champ first thing in the morning, thank goodness for that - our special time before anyone else is up.  But, during the day he can't be bothered with being all cuddled up and close to me - the world is just too exciting.  I can't blame him, it is pretty cool out here.  The evening "nursing" is a bit more problematic.  I had let him nurse to sleep while we were traveling - but that is not a habit I want him to get used to...SO, I have to cut the "falling asleep on mommy" thing...even though I love it so....Well, it's been a beautiful 10 and a half months.  I will offer myself to him as long as he'll take me (well, up to a point, of course), but it seems as though he is moving on. :(

-It irks me that I might be a better librarian than parent.  I mean, on a full time basis.  I know I am a good parent, but I might be a better one if I spend a few hours being professional me, rather than mommy all day long.  Liam is SO emotional...I can only think that he is this way b/c he spends all his waking hours with me.  What have I done to that poor boy?  Oy.  I pray that kindergarten will help.....

I thought I had more to complain about...but it seems as though the well has run dry.  I hope I am not coming off as unhappy.  I am.  I just have a lot on my mind...and it feels good to get it out.  (I hate to admit that I don't really write in my journal anymore.  It is so much more satisfying to know a couple of people might read my thoughts and comment and or give me a call to discuss....) Kind of pathetic...and kind of not.

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Our trip back East...

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Highlights from our trip:

Lovely Sea Bright. Both boys love the ocean.  It was pretty chilly - I can't believe Finn didn't cry when we put his feet in the water.  They loved it.

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Off to NYC to visit Aunt Lauren at Columbia.  We rode the subway, ate at a fancy restaurant, and visited FAO Schwarz.  I will NOT ride the subway at rush hour with a stroller ever again.

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oh...and yeah, perfect time to forget to put shoes and socks on my baby - riding the super clean subways of new york...

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People, I don't know if I've said this before, but my mom is gorgeous.  She may smoke and drink more coffee than most people I know, but it doesn't seem to phase her in a negative way.  She exercises, spends as much time outdoors as possible, and, I can see this now, truly loves her life.  And so, it shows all over, don't you think?  I hope she doesn't mind me posting this, but she turned 59 two weeks ago!  I can only hope to be this healthy and happy in twenty or so years.

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Cousin Asher comes over to swim!

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Here's some eye candy. My mom all decked out for a dinner...not with me and the kids, of course!

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Uncle Chuckie teaches Liam about American Indians...

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Reunited with our best buds upstate.

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It was like these two peas in a pod were never apart!

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Hiking with Finny-Finn.

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Auntie Maya takes a turn with Finn and her handsome Loup.

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Liam gets some fishing lessons with Uncle Chuckie.

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There's Maya again, on the other side of the lake! We were in the row boat.

 

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Life or death...

A dramatic title for a dramatic 24 hours.  Yesterday was turning out to be a pretty awesome day.  My mom had planned this big bbq/b-day celebration for her and Liam's birthdays.  All the family had arrived, cousins from Philly, all my east coast siblings and their significant others, neighbors...I had baked cookies AND brownies, the salads were chilling in the fridge, the meat was ready for the grill, all of us had dipped in the pool...Little Finn began fussing around dinner time and I gave him a cracker.  A cracker I believed to be safe.  Long story short, it was not.  Within minutes his entire face was covered with hives.

As per our medical emergency action plan, I gave him his full dose of benedryl and watched him for ten minutes.  As I fretted, my stepdad (a surgeon) called another cousin (an ER pediatrician in NYC) and concluded that we should go to the ER.  Just as we were getting into the car and ten minutes had passed, it was clear that Finn was getting worse and not better.  I had the EpiPen at the ready, but since we were headed to the hospital (and there wasn't any respiratory distress) we decided it would be best for the ER docs to treat him.

To get to our local hospital one must cross a quarter mile long, two lane bridge (one way in each direction).  This bridge is also one of the main ways to the beach, and at 6:15 pm on a warm Saturday night in June, it was completely backed up with traffic.  As Finn's lips started to swell and his eyes refused to stay open (partially from the swelling, partially from the benedryl) my stepdad took it into high gear.  He drove right into the oncoming lane, hammered the horn and held his police surgeon's badge out the window.  I could not watch - there were cars coming straight for us and not much room on the bridge.  Somehow, cars moved over enough for us to get by.  Once on the other side, every light was red, and he went through every single one. Had anyone else driven us, it would have taken 45 minutes - but thanks to my stepdad, we were there in 10.  And, even though I could not watch most of the drive, and there were tears streaming down my face onto Finn's red swelling cheeks, I was not scared.  David was sure and steady...and perhaps a little crazy, but I could sense his control of the situation and it got us to the hospital in one piece and I was not hysterical (that would come later).

In case you are not aware, if you walk into an ER with a slack baby and say "anaphylactic," things happen very quickly.  David was held back to fill out our names, but Finn and I were taken immediately to a pediatric wing of their emergency room. Literally within five minutes they had an IV in Finn and were pushing meds (more benedryl and steroids).  And, like last time, within another five minutes all of the really scary swelling was gone.  It took about an hour for the hives that had spread to his belly and arms to go away.  They kept us there for observation for a few hours.  The nurses and the PA that treated us were amazing.  We were sent home with a prescription for steroids and instructions to give benedryl every six or so hours for a couple of day.

My brother, Chuckie, came to pick us up (David had to go back and grill dinner for the house full of guests once Finn was stable).  Every one had waited for us to sing happy birthday to Liam and my mom, so we didn't even miss the cake. Although, I was so, so, SO wasted and drained from the experience I can't remember much.  I DO remember ALL of my siblings, and my mom staying up until midnight with me when I had to give Finn another dose of benedryl.  

So, rewind a tad.  After Finn was stable and I was alone in the room with him sleeping on my shoulder, I did lose it.  I hated myself for giving him that stupid cracker.  My mom had made a special bowl of chips specifically for me and Finn - and I, thinking I knew what was in the crackers in another bowl - let him eat one.  How frustrating!  I am so meticulous about all the things I eat and making kids wash their hands before touching him, and here I go and give him a cracker made with milk.  MILK! Of all things!  I know I am not perfect, and in all honesty, I am glad it was me and not some poor, unsuspecting sibling or friend of the family that gave him the contraband.  Finn will be mobile in a matter of months and keeping him from putting things in his mouth that might kill him will be an every day challenge.  Still, I cried a good cry, called some peeps to boost my spirits, and let it go.  What else can I do? (Other than NEVER give him stupid crackers again!)

Oy.  After the midnight dose, I kept Finn in bed with me so I could listen to him breathe for the rest of the night.  He, of course, is fine.  Completely fine.  As a matter of fact, today he figured out how to quasi-crawl.  He kind of drags his butt a little, but, pulling with his arms, has figured out how to move himself along.  What a guy.

Well, that's the gist of our life or death adventure.  Otherwise, we are having a really great time.  Seeing family, going to the beach, Manhattan, and so on...

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