Spaghetti on the Wall

Now that I'm over my writer's block, it's time to throw the spaghetti on the wall and see what sticks.

When I was in middle school I wanted to change my name to Zeka (pronounced zee-ka).  It was my version of "Twonda!"  The name Idgie Threadgood, from the movie Fried Green Tomatoes, used to shout to give herself courage.

In recent years, I've become almost paralyzed from insecurity and social perceptions. The more "hard-line" I felt I was about certain things, the more often time and research showed me alternate paths.

Up until now, I wasn't zen enough to understand that being unsure is okay.  Or maybe, I'm okay with it now because -so far- we have all turned out okay. And frankly, being a mother scares the shit out of me.  There's no "fake it til you make it' through raising kids, but somehow it's happening.

More recently, I've accepted the fact that I'm not ever going to attain the perception of what I THOUGHT I needed to be as a mom, or person in general; of what I had envisioned for myself.  Equally so on a professional level. I can never completely dedicate all of my time to perfecting both. There's not enough space for it all to fit. 

The balancing act is real. The desire to attain perfection is gone. The swinging pendulum, the press of demands and lack of time is unreal.  We all have to sleep and eat.  And this is good.

Leaky Diaper

Domestic Strategist sits down next to Brother From Out Of Town with a cup of coffee as the first round of World Cup Soccer 2010 (South Africa vs Mexico) begins.  Baby girl is gleefully bouncing 'ride em cowgirl' on top of Great Dane.

Brother From Out of Town looks down at the floor and asks, "is that mud?"

Domestic Strategist sees the trail of brown baby footprints leading over to Great Dane:  "EEK!  That's definitely not mud!"

After receiving a proper hose down of all things "muddy", a naked Baby Girl squeals happily in the backyard chasing Shepard.

Memories that will last forever!

Snot Rockets

Boy Dinosaur blows 4 inch snot rocket and wiggles dangling goop from end of nose.

Domestic Strategist runs for tissue.

Boy Dinosaur sucks it back up.

Domestic Strategist stares dumbfounded.

Boy Dinosaur smiles and walks away.

Addict

After painstakingly giving up coffee throughout 9 months of pregnancy and then through at least 18 months of nursing, spending many a narcoleptic afternoon wondering what would happen if I keeled over in a comatose and Lord of the Flies became a reality, I inhaled the grounds from a bag of my favorite Texas, San Antonio blend H.E.B. coffee.  Immediately striking up a love affair with my perculator, the aroma danced through my nostrils, and like a rehabilitated junkie I brewed that first cup with delight and anticipation.  Adding just the right amount of milk and cream before sipping.  Ahhhh- that's the way to start a morning!  
My tea pot grew lonely and dusty on the shelf and my bags of caffeine free rooibos and samples of hibiscus, licorice root and blueberry were now stale and moldy.  For who even thinks to dabble with mint, chamomile, or green when it's GO time... 
At first it was just one cup.  Then I started routinely drinking another after dropping off Boy Dinosaur at Preschool.  Topping off another at 10ish.  By 2:30 I would start to crash and reheat from the pot for a quick pick me up to get through the afternoon. 
Why am I so tired?  
It's GO time!!!!  
Slugging and slinking finally to bed I melt into the covers and my eyes are frozen open..  Just one more show..  Just one more chapter..  Just one more phone call..  What is the plan for tomorrow?  What should I make for breakfast?  Why can't I fall asleep?


Unceremoniously dumping coffee into a GO cup sucking it down like fuel and driving to and from this and that was now routine, mundane and mandatory.


Then I received chocolate covered beans for my birthday.  I started eating them like crack rocks as a preventative measure to combat the afternoon slump.  I had a bag in the car and in the kitchen.  Maybe I should just eat these for breakfast!  Plus they are so tiny (therefore practically fat free right) and without the cream or annoying heat.. 
Hey, it might even help me loose the baby weight!  
How long can I call it baby weight?  Is there a window 1-2 or 1-5 years..... omg I haven't lost a pound after two children.. it's been two years and now I'm just fat and can't even call it baby weight!!! 


Why am I an emotional roller coaster? 
Where's my chocolate coffee candy!!!


Domestic Strategist:  "Hey Mom, I didn't have any coffee today and I feel great.  I'm so proud of myself.  It's weird not even a headache"  "Oh, Wait... I drove through and ordered a mocha frappe.."  "It was cold so I forgot it was coffee...I'm so scatterbrained." 


Boy Dinosaur: "Mom, when I'm a grown up I'm going to eat spicy food, chew gum, and drink hot coffee.", chew gum and drink hot coffee."

Wake up before your children!

At 6:30 a.m. Boy Dinosaur, all bright-eyed and bushy tailed, comes traipsing in, "Morning Mommy!". "Mornin' Sweetie" I manage, still fuzzy headed from being wrenched out of dreamland.  I start mentally calculating a way to snag just a few more minutes of sleep then chastising myself for not going to bed earlier. I hear him greet the dogs and their toenails tap dance across the hardwood as they scurry away from gleeful fingers.
Cold doggy noses begin to prod me out of my warm cocoon. Everyone has to use the bathroom.  Quickly I dart across the cold floor to the bathroom and forget to close the door, so now Great Dane is panting excitedly next to me at eye level and Shepard is pacing nervously in and out. Boy Dinosaur races in just behind the dogs, "Mommy I have to go pee pee!" He shrieks clutching his pants and I know that if I don't get out of the way immediately he'll wet his pants and all hell will break loose.  I get off the pot as quickly as humanly possible and try to shoo the dogs.
A baby cries.
The morning routine begins.
I make breakfast and set out a few toys to distract them while I race to find clothes to wear- determined to find something other than sweatpants for once this month!  It's too quiet and I stumble back to find the refrigerator raided and both Boy Dinosaur and Baby Girl sipping smoothie drinks (thank God that's all they had) next to a chair shoved in front of the open fridge. Boy Dinosaur looks at me smiling behind the bottle, eyes twinkling, waiting to see my reaction.
"Mindful Parenting", I repeat it like a mantra. I explain the refrigerator rules to them. I can tell we are in full boundary testing mode and happy to have a sibling cohort.  I have to be firm and clear and consistent...   
The battle of wits begins to get both children's shoes and jackets on. I try everything mindful I can think of and somehow they are now wearing less.
I threaten to stay home to moderate success.
"One..., Two...., Three...." the magical count down always before has reined them back in.  "Four, Five, Six", Boy Dinosaur mimics back perfectly.
Do I really sound like that? 
Herding them to the car I resolve to stay home if the same shenanigans continue next time. No more empty threats!  Wait, why would I keep them home?  Why would I use that as a threat?  What if he wants to stay home and is acting out so that I don't make him go?
Why do I over analyze EVERYTHING!
Do other mother's feel like they repel their children?
Am I in some magnetic dipole moment of parenthood?
Do we have to wait until after they leave for college for the Barnett effect to take place?

Eulogy of Plastic Eyeballs

I think it only appropriate to dedicate this blog to the passing of one of Baby Girls favorite toys.  One I repeatedly made half ass'd attempts at hiding but was somehow never totally successful.  It was introduced to her at Halloween inside an over-sized bag, stuffed to the brim with more candy and knickknacks than any 14 month old could ever or should ever see- one week before the costumes and annual sugar consumption officially began.
Why relatives?  Why?

And what was this object of her voracious desire to snuggle and cradle for months to come...  The so beloved toy that she insisted on cradling it in her hand through grocery stores, and to the chagrin of her mother, drag through Boy Dinosaur's Montessori preschool holding up to any and all passersby for approval.

A bouncy ball formed out of about a dozen small plastic red rimmed eyeballs.

Was it the haphazard way it bounced and zigzaged across the floor that caught her eye? Or the terrified look on her mother's face when she held it anywhere near the vicinity of her mouth?

We'll never know.

Yesterday our beloved Great Dane dismembered and half consumed this dear toy. Baby Girl must have known somewhere in her heart it was gone, even though I rushed to sweep all remaining pieces in to the trash and out of sight. In the middle of the night she woke up in a mournful wail. As I rocked and soothed her back to sleep Loving Husband woke to a different noise. Our dog vomiting at the foot of the bed. He ran quickly to clean and was aghast to discover four half digested eyeballs floating in the muck. Unaware of the days previous activities you can imagine the thought process...
Am I really awake? Are those real? What can I poke it with?

Oh, plastic eyeball bouncy toy you are now officially gone, but your memory will live forever.  Or at least as long as this blog..

Frosty

Driving through our neighborhood there is a small unoccupied area cleared of forest where someone has started a snowman family. First there was one naked unadorned 5 foot high snowman and now there are three. Driving past other snowmen with scarfs and hats I feel giddy almost like a 5 year old again. I see them and giggle.
Why are the snowmen on my street naked?
Someone worked so hard to make them because they are perfectly, nay expertly, rounded and proportioned. Who made them? Why do they freak me out so much? Maybe if they had faces...

I'm talking Pennywise the Clown from "IT" creepy...

We played for an hour or so with the kids in the snow and even stacked up a little snowman w/ stick arms and a hat, etc. Baby Girl had a blast and gave it a huge hug then started scooping out little mittenfuls and eating it.  Boy Dinosaur eventually knocked it down and ran over it with a dump truck and excavator. The best part was when he asked if we put a "happy soul" in it.

Maybe I should send him over to the naked Frosty's w/ his dump truck.....