Her: Mommy whassat?
Me: these are mommy chips.
Her: oh ew.
Her: oh Mommy, I need kiss you eyes *kisses my eyes* oh, Mommy, that feel funny.
Stemmed from nothing…
Her: oh, Mommy, *you* save a bunny wabbit.
Him: Mommy, we wanna watch dat moobee wiff a pwincess guhl. Sees pwetty. (Princess Protection Program with Selena Gomez & Demi Lovato…he’s only 3.5!!)
“Pickle Baby, you cannot fees the moth your froot loop. Especially not through the sliding glass door.”
“Boogie, if you pull those pants up one more time, you and I will be having a lesson on the concept of pantsing.” (For the record, the tag irritated his skin, and I had them sitting just-so with the tag not touching him. Plus they’re thisclose to being to short for him.)
Leave is over. I’m back to that whole single parenting gig. The Husband is legitimately back to work “in a mountain” as our kids call it. Which all means that he was home and I never said a word about it…unless you’re on your A game and noticed my mention of having 3 other people in my house. We keep things on the DL here, obviously.
But really, I feel like life is back to “deployment normal” now. And that sounds absolutely terrible if you really think about it, I know. I can’t help it, though. With this early rotation, it makes the whole thing difficult.
Wow…not at all where I wanted to go with this whole thing. Jumping back onto the train of thought I was on when I started, how about we try for a run-down of the last 2 weeks – bullet style.
- international flights and metro pick-ups were coordinated and made and whatnot. as usual, there were the last minute freak-outs from baby man about “no want Daddy, wanna go get Grandmom” but that was quickly forgotten when Daddy tapped on his window when we got to the metro.
- obscene amounts of laundry were done. which is tragically sad when you consider that The Husband brought home a whopping 2 outfits, 4 pairs of chonies, and a uniform that he wore the whole way home (which, ew. I love you dearly, TH, but seriously…ew. don’t ever do that again, please.)
- somewhere in here was a whole week that seemed like we did a whole lot of nothing, but I know we went places and did things. mostly it was just hanging out with the kids and doing the whole parenting/family thing. it was needed.
- we acquired a loan (a personal first…shuddup, I’m still a baby by most people’s definitions) and bought a new-to-us car to replace the car The Husband bought from his best friend’s father. if you followed that, I applaud you. I struggle with it myself, but that could be the exhaustion functionality.
- the day following the purchase of our new car, we packed up the family and drove to visit a friend for the 4th. let me just tell you that you need more than 2.5 days to adjust to being a family of 4 again before you stick yourselves in a car together for several hours to drive SOUTH on a major holiday weekend. ‘nough said.
- drank ourselves relaxed upon arriving at our friend’s house. our combined 3 children ended up running around her upstairs playing and generally keeping each other awake until well after midnight. I’d feel terrible about it, except for the part where her kid was a huge instigator of a large part of it.
- we did the whole beach thing one day, an indoor bounce playground thing the next day, and came home before fireworks on the 4th because I was ready to sleep in my own bed and zip my kids into theirs and pee in my own toilet and not worry about the messes we made and a whole host of other things that seemed earth-shattering then, but I was just cranky because
- holy UTI, Batman.
- jugs of cran-apple cocktail juice and more AZO than the instructions recommend, and I’m good as new. who’da thunk florescent colors could come from the human body?!
- went to Freedom Fest on base, and had to talk the boy child into liking the fireworks because he had himself convinced he wanted to be scared. so he sat in my lap and literally clung to my neck while he cackled with delight.
- MIL threw together a cookout on the 5th, after she got home from work. The Husband’s oldest sister was in town for some other function (she lives in TX, so visits are few and far between), so the only one missing was my BIL. fireworks for the kids at the end of the driveway, but they saved all the flashy ones for the end so I had to walk away and go back inside.
- against my instructions, my kids were permitted to play with sparklers, and then The Husband brought the girl child inside to me asking for a bag of ice and some burn ointment, because she’d touched her thumb to her 4th sparkler and had a healthy blister already bubbling up. amazing how a mother’s judgment is proven right time and again.
- home shenanigans abound. but like all good things, leave too must come to an end…right when things are starting to really settle in and run smoothly. new routine worked out, and suddenly it’s time to change it again.
- took The Husband back to the metro to go catch his first in a series of flights to get back to combat.
- as much as we might’ve liked to, there was no way I could’ve handled parking at the airport and getting all 4 of us through security to have to say goodbye at the gate and then walk back to the car alone with my kids. so we said our (tearful) goodbyes, and we drove away before the tears had a chance to blur my vision completely.
That was Friday. And while it’s only been 2 days since all that, it seems like a lifetime ago.
Saturday was my birthday, and despite plans for drunken debauchery, it remained relatively low-key. A few of my friends got together and we went to dinner and to play putt-putt. There was a little bit of movie watching, and then I came back home to my empty house (God bless my in-laws for keeping my kids so I could have some “me-time” for the weekend).
Today didn’t really exist, except in the passage of time. I mostly sat around doing a whole lot of nothing before having to scramble to drive back up to my parents to retrieve my couch cover since my mother most graciously agreed to wash it in her “over-sized” washer. Then she demanded I let her feed me, and like the obedient child I never was growing up I complied. My dad discussed the new car with me for a bit, then my mom came back outside to stick a birthday check in my hand before I left. Dropped the couch cover at home, and went to pick up my babies. We finally left an hour after I got there, and I had to drive past home to get gas because there was no way we’d get out of the house before the heat of the day to fill up, and I don’t want to have to worry about having no gas when/if we try to go somewhere fun. Babes in bed after 1030, a phone call from The Husband, extended conversations with my sister (who is currently making me so proud it almost physically hurts), and thus is my life.
On that oh-so cheery note, I do believe it’s time to stop making your eyes bleed and call it a night.
All-time most epic parenting moment of my life: teaching the girl child what shart means, then listening to her walk around all morning saying “poop fart” in a sing-song voice and occasionally at top volume. This parenting gig? It’s pretty stellar after all.
sometimes…you just hafta let kids be kids, & roll with their weird decisions
Two days ago, The Husband and I managed a video chat while the babies napped, for the first time in easily 2 weeks. I don’t think I’ve smiled that much since I brought him home on leave before they flew out in the first place.
We talked again when the kids were in bed for the night and after he’d gotten to work for the day. All night, it was a constant up and down game with little girl to keep her sleeping. Then baby man started his seal bark and gurgle-like breathing. The night’s end result was both my babies sleeping in my bed, literally on top of my person – all so that they would be more comfortable and sleep more peacefully.
Nothing is ever perfect, but we all slept rather quietly until around 0730 when baby man started barking again and just got way too uncomfortable to “sleep” anymore. Add to that equation a little girl with a raging fever, and we all ended up tossing and turning for another hour before I hauled us all out of bed to start our day. Big plans of lunch with Grandmom and Gia (pronounced gee-uh) and The Husband’s baby sister, only minimally tainted by the possibility of a trip to the ER on base if the fever didn’t go down and the barking got worse.
Like everything else in our lives, things went from bad to worse in a matter of hours. While I was dealing with the dishwasher, baby man came to the gate whining for my attention, beating on his chest telling me “Mommy, hurts, ow Mommy” and wheezing really bad with every breath. Yanked his shirt off, and instantly saw that his skin was retracting between a few of his upper ribs – breathing “backwards” if you will. Little girl hadn’t moved in hours, so I checked on her, and she had a fever of 101.6. Already waiting on MIL, FIL, and SIL, we got dressed while they hurried out to help me get everyone to the ER with a bit more ease. I get a phone call from The Husband to talk to the kids and try to soothe them how he could from thousands of miles away, which was another good motivator to hang back a bit longer.
You know that feeling you have when you’re driving your fevered child to the ER, and the whole way there you wonder if you truly got an accurate reading and if the triage nurse will look at you like a damn fool? Yea, the drive was sooo much longer, worrying that maybe I was wrong.
We got there, checked in, and were triaged in no time flat – an absolute miracle for our local MTF. Turns out, little girl’s fever was even higher there than it was at home, so I had that weird feeling of relief that I wasn’t exaggerating, and terror that she was that unwell. No real acknowledging of baby man’s issues, beyond checking oxygen saturation levels.
Waiting games aside, we were ushered back to a treatment room where the male nurse looked at me like I’d claimed to have AIDS when I said baby man sounded like he had Croup, and rushed out to get the attending doctor. She came in, took a listen to his chest and lungs, and immediately confirmed my suspicions. A quick check of little girl’s ears brought to light the source of her fever and fussiness lately – a raging ear infection, completely out of her normal range of illnesses. Treatment plans and discharge papers, and we were on our way out – kids to the cars with all the in-laws, and my to the in-building pharmacy to pick up the prescribed medications.
We now have antibiotics aplenty, and enough steroids in our home to create some toddler ‘roid rage. Here’s hoping all’s well by tomorrow morning, as we’re scheduled to drive out to see an old “friend” where she works as a nanny, and have a play date with her daughter and the boy she watches.
I’ve been looking for a remote to mute my kids for however long it’s been since my oldest started vocalizing. (That’s almost 2.5yrs, for anybody who’s counting at home.) Sadly, all my effort has turned up nothing. And recently, they seem to be getting louder than ever. How is that even possible?!
I had to go to the dentist this morning, and God bless my grandmother for coming to stay with the demon seeds for me. The woman is a saint, no two ways about it. When I got back, I could hear them yelling and jumping and generally getting excited with our front door still shut…they’re LOUD.
My grandmother trucked it back up the road to home, and they flaunted some of their recently learned phrases. Along with hugs and kisses, they sent her off with a loud chorus of “ah yuv you.” it was enough sweetness to rot the teeth right out of your skull.
Somebody knocked on the door to question me about whether or not it was my car parked in their marked space, and they literally covered their ears when I opened the door. Told me I have nosy kids when they stood at the gate asking “who ah you.” Talk about hilarious. Dang.
Dinner is always chaos around here, but tonight we had the added insanity of trash cans getting knocked over and little feet running through the carnage, cackling. Between the running feet and shrill cackles, they kept talking to me and asking questions, but I couldn’t understand anything.
Asking them to slow down or quiet down or repeat themselves is always a treat. Sometime in the last couple weeks, they picked up their newest favorite phrase, “wha ah tah abou” (what are talk about). Endlessly, they yelled it at me. Ridiculous fun, that.
Sometimes kids just need to be put to bed early. It was one of those times tonight. Too much chaos and disorder for me to handle their continued antics. Feel terrible for it, but I was straight up MAD. They’re perceptive little buggers, those two, cause when I put them in bed and started to walk away they both sat up and told me “Mommy yuv you big.” Stuck me straight in my heart, and turned me all around. Don’t get me wrong, they were still horrible today and I wasn’t equipped to handle any more. But I walked out of their room ready to let go of it all and start things fresh in the morning.
Sometimes you just need to listen to ALL the little things they say. Otherwise you might miss something you desperately needed to hear.
No sweet, visual wake-up today. That hurt my heart, but it is what it is. Can’t expect that all the time, anyway.
Fast forward through late morning and early afternoon (because I sure did) and come 3pm when The Husband headed somewhere, the kids and I dashed over to the gym for me to sign my contract for a membership for the next year. They have daycare available every.single.day (during annoyingly limited/selective hours), so I have no excuses not to go. Here’s hoping I can figure out how to rock it and get myself back in shape. I’m not holding my breath for swimsuit season because that’s just around the corner. But if I could pull it together in time for Homecoming (the soldiers, not the high school dance next fall), I’d be jazzed.
Once we got home, last night’s late night caught up with me and I let some Backyardigans babysit the beebs while I halfway dozed on the couch. Judge me, please – we both know you want to. We’d been snacking on some gummi bears earlier on, and I suddenly glanced over to see the girl child pulling the gallon size plastic bag ALL the way over her head and face. Where in the world did this child come from, and why was she entrusted to me? Because I don’t see myself as possessing the skills to manage/control her chaos. Needless to say, it was immediately removed and thrown away, as casually as possible. She’s good at picking up on fear or other intense emotions, my girl. Can’t let her see you sweatin’ her shenanigans.
Fixed them dinner, which they predictably refused to eat until threatened with going straight to bed hungry. (Call me a mean mom – I dare you. But trust and believe, I am NOT a short-order cook.) They still ended up going straight from dinner to bed, but only because they were face-planting in their plates. Talk about hilarious. (I’m so going to hell.)
The Husband could neither confirm nor deny my questions/assumptions about what was going on (damn OpSec policies and UCMJ standards), but I’m pretty sure they left their layover country today. Something about “I’ll try and hit you up in 9hrs, if everything goes smoothly” just screams “they’re putting us on another plane” to me. So that said, I’m still waiting to hear from him again, and likely won’t sleep (peacefully or otherwise) until I do.
I’m so tired of this start-stop-start-stop-GO GO GO GO GO thing the military does to us. But it’s all completely out of my hands now. We wait and hope and pray that there are no freak sandstorms (hello 3-day-delayed leave from last deployment) that screw up the process.
Ready. Set. Have something to eat and watch terrible late night television. Sweet dreams, world. Find peace, and heal yourself.
I have 2 of possibly THE most strong-willed children, ever known to man. Like, to the point of being down-right defiant. The kind of defiant where they look you in the eye while they do exactly what you just told them not to do, with that wicked little grin on their face that makes you want to possibly knock them silly. (We all know that won’t happen, because they’re too damn cute the majority of the time.)
So, here comes the controversial part of this…the part that I already know will offend some people, & vindicate others.
I spank my kids. There, I said it.
I have tried almost every non-physical form of punishment known to man, and NOTHING works on them:
*they don’t care if you put them in time-out, they’ll just get up & walk away.
*they climb out of the crib then fall & get hurt.
*they’re too young to get that their actions caused their toys to be taken away. (If you think I’m wrong, I’ll gladly let you come try that method. I give you 2 days before you believe me on that fact.)
*I already make them hug when they’re mean to each other, which works temporarily, until Pickle annoys Boogaloo, & then the hitting/scratching/punching/kicking starts all over again.
I’m stuck. I *HATE* spanking my kids. I hate making them cry. But I just Do. Not. know how else to get thru to them.
So this is where you come in. I’m asking you for your suggestion. The methods you use to discipline your kids without having to get physical with them. I’m sure you have opinions about spanking. That’s fine, you’re entitled to them. Do NOT share them – or your judgment – with me in my comments.
If you have any questions about specifics regarding my kids behavior or whatever that are pertinent to the whole disciplining them topic, feel free to email me. I think there’s a link to do just that in a side bar somewhere. If not, leave a comment asking for my email, & I’ll get back to you about it.
Please be gentle. I can’t handle much more “mean” at this point!!
Dear Brain,
What mysterious chemical imbalance are you afflicted with so chaotically? And why did you have to randomly be wired to crash me high and low, back and forth, again and again, all in the blink of an eye? Oh, the debilitating sensory aversions are just kicking me when I’m already down…have mercy! For the love of Pete, at least don’t manifest as a dire NEED to clean and wash while we live here. The floors here being coated by mold and/or kitty litter is making it physically IMPOSSIBLE to do a damn thing. I can’t scrub the basement floor on my knees with a toothbrush because I can’t walk on the basement floor without gagging. I can’t wash my own clothes because the laundry room floor is coated by a layer of kitty litter and the feel of it makes me want to drown kittens.
Dear MIL,
If you make a bottle for either of my children, do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT just drop the formula scoop back into the can to then be covered by said formula because having to touch that powder to retrieve the scoop will trigger a HUGE sensory reaction, making me VERY angry for absolutely no reason…. Just because you don’t get the angry face of Caitlin doesn’t mean you can still just do what you want and get away with it all.
Dear Children,
Your constant screaming and neediness is going to drive mommy KRAYZEE if you don’t cut it out already. The clinging to my pody will not fly anymore. Mommy needs her personal space, regardless of what you want.
Irritating Cats,
You’re getting closer and closer to driving me to drink. I don’t know which of you figured out how to open the door to Pickle’s room, but for the simple fact that you let the fat black and white ass-hole cat in there when all he cares to do is sit on my daughter’s face…you deserve to feel pain. And as if that’s not enough. the constant yowling…it keeps me awake at night. Cut the crap or I cut you. ALL!
Dear Husband,
I had a complete mental breakdown, followed by a full-on panic attack, and you did NOTHING to help me come back from the edge. I love you dearly, but that’s unacceptable from you. I need a shoulder to lean on right now. I need a strong support system, headed up by you because you’re my husband. Step it up, please. I need you now, more than ever, love.
