Call me Mother of the Year.
I do believe my children are conspiring against me. It is now their job to make sure I get nothing done.
Tula is teething now, which is really not fun for either of us. She's in pain and I can't always make it go away, and I can't make her understand that I want to stop her hurting. More specifically, I'd like to stop her hysterical screaming. And for the record, I'm buying stock in Baby Orajel. Thankfully, the swing still works to calm her down on occasion, so there's that.
Peanut's temper tantrums are at a new high. He's not hitting anymore, and I'm thoroughly grateful for that. That said, the length and volume are spectacular, and I'm at a loss at how to calm him down. It seems that he erupts over the smallest things these days. I suspect he's acting out because of all the time I have to give to Tula, but it's killing me that he thinks the tantrums are the only way to get my attention. I'm doing everything I can to make sure I'm using my "inside voice" but all I want to do is shriek back at him. Not good.
In the meantime, the baby is crying, Peanut is finally done pouting, and the dog is howling. One of these days, I'll get my hearing back. I may even be able to smile again, but right now, I'm a wee bit busy calming my house down. Thanks for listening, kids. And Boomer just pulled into the driveway, ready to give me back my sanity. This is why there's a two-parent system in this house. Maybe I'll get something done after all.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Monday, February 1, 2010
When Did This Happen?
Call me Mother of the Year.
I confess that I'm pondering today. Nothing's wrong; we're all finally healthy. It's just, well, Peanut's making me think again.
This time five years ago, I was at work. I didn't love the job itself, but I did love my co-workers. They were awesome. And I was pregnant. Very pregnant. Said cohorts had thrown the baby shower, the baby pool had been set up, and the entire office was on Babywatch. And patting my sizable stomach at every chance. As I left the office for the day, one of my supervisors informed me that I couldn't come to work the next day because she had it on the baby pool and she wanted to win. I chuckled and headed off to my doctor's appointment.
Guess what? I was two centimeters dilated.
Fast forward a few hours. Boomer and I were getting ready for bed. You guessed it, it was time to haul to the hospital. Boomer, having just gotten into bed, was less than thrilled. I was completely terrified. My supervisor was thrilled. Twenty-two hours later, Peanut came screaming onto the scene and totally stole my heart.
I want to know where the five years have gone.
My baby is now a big boy and an awesome big brother. He's getting ready for Kindergarten, loves his Leapster 2, all things Cars, and helping in the kitchen. He's reached all his preschool goals and can read and write his name. He is a loving and lovable little boy.
And my heart is breaking because his world is getting bigger. He wants to try his newfound independence and I want to hold him close and never let go. So I'm taking a deep breath, unclenching my fingers, and letting go. Up to a point. Let's face it, if I'm like this when the poor kid turns five, I'm really in trouble when we hit the teenage years.
But for now, there are birthday cupcakes to be made for preschool and a party to be had. And if you see me at 8:10 tomorrow evening wiping away a tear at the idea of having a big boy instead of a little baby, I hope you'll forgive me. And join me in a cupcake. They're a Peanut special.
Call me Mother of the Year.
I confess that I'm pondering today. Nothing's wrong; we're all finally healthy. It's just, well, Peanut's making me think again.
This time five years ago, I was at work. I didn't love the job itself, but I did love my co-workers. They were awesome. And I was pregnant. Very pregnant. Said cohorts had thrown the baby shower, the baby pool had been set up, and the entire office was on Babywatch. And patting my sizable stomach at every chance. As I left the office for the day, one of my supervisors informed me that I couldn't come to work the next day because she had it on the baby pool and she wanted to win. I chuckled and headed off to my doctor's appointment.
Guess what? I was two centimeters dilated.
Fast forward a few hours. Boomer and I were getting ready for bed. You guessed it, it was time to haul to the hospital. Boomer, having just gotten into bed, was less than thrilled. I was completely terrified. My supervisor was thrilled. Twenty-two hours later, Peanut came screaming onto the scene and totally stole my heart.
I want to know where the five years have gone.
My baby is now a big boy and an awesome big brother. He's getting ready for Kindergarten, loves his Leapster 2, all things Cars, and helping in the kitchen. He's reached all his preschool goals and can read and write his name. He is a loving and lovable little boy.
And my heart is breaking because his world is getting bigger. He wants to try his newfound independence and I want to hold him close and never let go. So I'm taking a deep breath, unclenching my fingers, and letting go. Up to a point. Let's face it, if I'm like this when the poor kid turns five, I'm really in trouble when we hit the teenage years.
But for now, there are birthday cupcakes to be made for preschool and a party to be had. And if you see me at 8:10 tomorrow evening wiping away a tear at the idea of having a big boy instead of a little baby, I hope you'll forgive me. And join me in a cupcake. They're a Peanut special.
Call me Mother of the Year.
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