A red marker, a white napkin, and a brown paper sack

Noah's class went on a field trip Friday. He has been excited about it for months!

On field trip days the kids take a packed lunch. Every other school day Noah buys his lunch.

Rich packs Noah's lunch, but I always slip in a note, usually written on a napkin or paper towel.

Have an awesome day. 

I love you! 

Mom

Red marker on a white napkin. Thirty seconds to write and slide in the brown paper sack between an apple and a bag of chips.

.........................

Noah jumped off the bus steps when he came home and ran into the house. Full of  stories about the day.

Nate threw up when he got off the bus this morning.

They only let us go through the tunnel once this time, but it was still cool.

We didn't get to go to the gift shop, but I bought a snack from the vending machine.

Oh, I didn't want to throw this away (pulling a white napkin with red writing on it out of his pocket), so I kept it in my pocket.

Do you like it when I put notes in your lunch?

Yes. Because I know you are thinking about me and want me to have an awesome day. But I already know you always love me.  

.........................

Maybe, just maybe, I'm doing something right after all.


 

Pulling back and reconnecting

I wrote this post several weeks ago. I needed it to sit for a while to make sure I was ready to post it. I think it's ready now.

Parenting is hard. It just is, and there is no way to really prepare for it. You jump in and hope you swim. Fortunately, Rich and I have managed to keep our heads above water, despite some very deep water and long periods of doggy paddling. Occasionally we have needed some help and managed to grab on to some floaty devices at just the right time.

I've learned from every wave we have managed to navigate ourselves through. I've learned to float when I can, but always have lungs full of air just in case.

And I think maybe I got a little over confident.

Amidst juggling Noah's medical needs, his academic needs, and his physical needs, I think I forgot about his emotional needs.


We had a pretty good summer, and his transition into fourth grade and a new school overall went smoothly (on the Noah scale of smoothness anyway). Soccer was great in the fall and although it took lots of encouragement he's loving playing basketball this winter. We've seen improvement with his reading, and he's keeping up in math. He even received an A in science last marking period and a B in social studies.

He has an amazing emotional support teacher and overall the school is very supportive of him. There were bumps to be sure, but overall we have been so proud of him.

While I am always thinking about what is coming up next and what more we should be doing for him, I let us float the last few months. We received the results of his neuropsych testing from the FASD clinic the end of October. It included several recommendations, medical and academic, that I was very slowly chipping away at, but not with any urgency. Mostly I was enjoying not feeling like we were always being chased by the shark.

Looking back, I think things started to change in November. Perhaps it was Kiel's birthday. Or the month of disrupted school attendance due to super storm Sandy and then school holidays around Thanksgiving. Or maybe it wasn't any of that.

What I do know is that Noah started to struggle a little more, both at school and at home. He created more chaos at home, got into more things around the house we thought he knew he shouldn't. He was plugging up the toilet again, the encopresis was back and I felt like poop was everywhere. He was taking longer to do homework and was almost impossible to keep focused.

He started picking his nose again and washing his hands obsessively. And new motor tics started in his arms and neck. 

It was getting to the point where I didn't trust him out of my site. Too many times he created chaos in minutes. Some of it dangerous. I questioned if I could keep him safe.

He was mouthier and brattier and ruder than ever. And so incredibly oppositional.

Words were said that should never been spoken. 

I was frustrated. Rich was frustrated. The things we used to handle OK started to drive us crazy.

And then we have Kiel. He turned five. He's sleeping in his own room (finally). I'm able to spend more time alone with him and LOVE our Mommy-Kiel days. He's a sweet, funny kid that loves to cuddle. He tells me a hundred times a day (if not more) that he loves me and that I'm his best mom ever. He's the best of everything a five year old little boy can be.

I love both my boys intensely, fiercely, with a depth I never imagined was possible. But the truth is that I like Kiel far more than I like Noah the last couple months.

Looking back, I realize it's an insidious, horrible pattern. The more frustrated we became, the more Noah acted out. The more he acted out, the more frustrated we became. More frustration, more yelling, more rudeness, more acting out.

He was in trouble all the time. And while I was saying we can't let this continue, I was handling it more like a a strict no-nonsense parent, than the therapeutic parent he needed. The parent that understood why he struggled.

He had several rough days at school this week, and on Wednesday he hit a new low. On Tuesday he was in trouble for rhyming "stick" and "dick" (except he didn't know what "dick" meant so didn't understand why he was in trouble) and because he ate like a dog at lunch (except it was like a pig and he can't believe they didn't know that). Wednesday at recess he jumped the property line fence (because they were playing chase and he was running away from the kid that was "it."), he was removed from art class, and screamed at his aid, his general ed teacher, and his ES teacher; all before 1pm.

When he walked in the door that afternoon his first words were "I had the worst day ever."

Those words changed something in me.

Instead of consequences, I gave him a big hug and told him I loved him and it was OK.

We sat on the couch together and I held him.  I asked him if he knew how much I loved him.

He told me "no."

Those words broke my heart. How had I let it come to this? How did I let him get to the point that he questioned my love for him?

You can't fix everything with love, but you are going to find it much harder to fix anything without it.

We talked and cuddled. We reconnected physically. I'm not sure the last time I sat with him like that was.

Before bed we sat on the couch together again. The hour between dinner and bed had been rocky. I could see a physical difference in him. He was more settled when we were together on the couch. Now he looked angry, and sad.

We sat together, although he wouldn't cuddle then, and I asked him why he was so sad. I wouldn't let it go. He covered himself, including his face, with a blanket. He didn't want to talk. He said he didn't know how to say it. He didn't know the words. I pushed a little more.

Finally he said "it's you and Dad." He didn't say much more than that, but I didn't need to hear more. The pieces were coming together.

I know I had pulled back from him. I know things were said that made him question the stability of his life here. I know he felt misunderstood.

He was in trouble all the time and more often than not he didn't understand why what he did was wrong, or couldn't understand why it was such a big deal. It wasn't like he planned on doing those things.

While I could tell other people that he had brain damage and it affected his impulse control and ability to connect actions with consequences, I wasn't using that knowledge as I parented him.

We talked. I made it very clear how much we love him. I apologized for my poor behavior. We talked about how we could both make it better. I reminded him that my job as his mother was to keep him safe, to raise him to be a good adult, to teach him how to be a good person, a good husband, a good father in the future. We talked about how the older I get the more I learn, and that when you are only almost ten you know a lot less than your parents, and that is why sometimes you just have to accept that mom and dad are in charge and even if you don't always like it you have to do what you are told. I'm sure I said far more than he could absorb. It seemed to work though.

Rich put him to bed with a quick whisper from me that he needed to reconnect and I would explain later.

I shared with Rich and made it very clear that we both needed to rethink how we were parenting because what we were doing was breaking Noah.

Noah went to school Thursday morning with a smile on his face. He told me he was going to have a great day. I emailed his teacher to tell him what I thought was going on, especially that I thought he was feeling misunderstood.

His teacher sent me this picture in the morning and said "This is the Noah I know!"

He had a perfect behavior day on Thursday. He also participated in his first after-school basketball program and did great. He was SO EXCITED when he came out of the gym to tell me he received a 100 points (perfect day). He was a different kid than the one we had been living with the last two months.

Sometimes I forget just how easy it is to screw up as a parent. Sometimes I lose sight of why this gig is so important. Sometimes I need reminders, like the sweet, silly face of this boy.

That post where I explain how my wrapping strategy came back to bite me in the ass.

Noah still has a very strong belief in Santa. And that makes me very happy, because I am not yet ready to give up the little boy magic in the season. I guess there are some benefits to having an emotional age that doesn't match his chronological age. 

The other day I asked him what he wanted for Christmas and he immediately said he wanted an iPod touch. He's been asking for one for the last year. Sadly for him, there is no way in hell he is getting something that expensive. Especially since he shows no respect or ability to take care of the toys he already has.

Rather than say "no" outright I took the easy way out and I told him that if he received an iPod touch he wouldn't get much more than that because it was so expensive.

He looked at me and said "No, Santa doesn't care about money. He just makes it in his machine. I can have as many presents as I want." (And yes, I totally wanted to vomit at that moment, realizing what an awesome job I was clearly doing raising him to be a generous and giving child that doesn't just want,want,want.)

As my stomach settled, I tried to explain to him that there is still a budget, but he had stopped listening by then.

At this point, I should explain that in the MNT family, Santa brings the majority of the gifts. And "Santa" spoils both boys rotten. In the past, my criteria for a Santa gift relied mainly on the wrap-ability of the gift. If it wasn't easy to wrap it came from Santa. Or, if it needed to be put together before Christmas morning (because I refuse to spend all Christmas day trying to put toys together with two boys breathing down my neck) it typically came from Santa - I mean really, how many toys do you put together that actually end up box shaped as the final result?

I now see the strategical misstep on our part following that strategy. The toys get smaller and more expensive as Noah gets older. It's hard to explain the discrepancy of the number of gifts he gets vs Kiel (or the comparative size of the pile - which is still important to him) when his concept of money is still rather fluid. And now that I know he thinks Santa can provide unlimited amounts of toys I know we screwed ourselves right good based on Santa's past Christmas performances.

Tonight Rich took him to Toys "R" Us to pick up something for Kiel that was on sale, and also to get an idea of what Noah was interested in.

During the trip around the store, where Noah was pointing to almost everything and saying he wanted it, Rich brought up the budget issue with Noah. He tried to reinforce that Santa still has an amount of money he spends on each child.

Noah was having nothing to do with that explanation. According to Noah, Santa can make unlimited amounts of anything and money has nothing to do with it.  

Well, Rich in a moment of brilliance said of course Santa needs money, he has expenses. It costs money to make toys.

I wish I could show you Rich's impression of the look on Noah's face - he said it was like Noah just realized the sun came up every morning no matter how cloudy it was. A major revelation!


Noah: (In a troubled voice) I didn't think Santa had to pay for the toys.

Rich: Well, Santa has expenses. He has to pay people to make the toys.

Noah: Oh. Well, who makes the toys for Santa?

Rich: the elves

Noah: (nodding with a wise expression) Ohhhh. Okay. Right.

Issue settled. For tonight anyway.

 

He needs Peoples in his bed, people!

We finally finished cleaning out Kiel’s bedroom (thanks Bella!) and he is just thrilled! I’m trying not to feel too guilty that it took so long, considering his excitement level. Even Noah was impressed and I’ve had to explain more than a few times why the room can’t be his and why it IS fair that Kiel gets it. (This is what Noah’s bedroom looked like when he was three. Someday I should do a blog post about what it looks like five plus years and a few dozen rages later. It isn’t pretty.)

Kiel was very excited to go to bed in his own bedroom the first night.  We never really expected him to sleep in it all night, but were shocked when he made it until about 4am before he crawled in bed with us.

Since then he has rarely made it past midnight, but he still starts out in his own room, which I think is huge progress!

Although happy to read stories and snuggle in his bed, he doesn’t actually want to sleep in it by himself. I have rarely been successful leaving the room before he is asleep. If he does fall asleep he does it with at least one hand holding on to my arm, which makes it very hard to get out of bed without him waking up. We tend to do better on the weekends when he is more tired because he doesn’t get a nap.

Most nights though, even if he does fall asleep, he ends up begging one of us to get in bed with him. He needs Peoples in his bed, he tells us.

Despite watching that English nanny do it on that TV show, I don’t have it in me by that time of night to keep taking him back to his room. I’m tired and I need some time to do my own work, and the only time I have is after the boys are in bed.

So, we have come to a compromise.

If Kiel will not sleep in his bed alone before Rich and I are ready for bed, he also can not come down to the family room. Therefore, the stalemate position is the staircase. He can’t get off the stairs, but we aren’t going to force him to his bedroom and make all of us miserable.

So this is how he ends up more nights than not.

 

Comfy huh?

MNT Dreams in Families

Have you ever wondered what it is that motivates some people to do what others would consider impossible? We all have dreams right? Some people though, they have a drive that amazes me. Like the main character Jack Rosenblum in  Mr. Rosenblum Dreams in English, by Natasha Solomons.

From Publishers Weekly:
Screenwriter Solomons's debut novel is the pleasant, ripped-from-the-family-archives story of German exile Jack Rosenblum and his unlikely postwar quest to build a golf course in the Dorset countryside. Fresh off the boat and with a Helpful Information and Friendly Guidance for Every Refugee pamphlet in hand, Jack dives passionately into assimilation, starting a booming carpet business, buying his suits at Henry Poole and his hats at Lock of St. James, and avoiding his native tongue at all costs. And while he can afford golf clubs at Harrod's, he can't check off the last item on his list: join a golf club. On impulse, he buys a damp acreage and embarks on the final leg of his assimilation. Meanwhile, his wife, Sadie, obsesses over the past, churning out Baumtortes and other confections. It's undeniably winsome, and while the pace is lackadaisical at best, the details of postwar Britain are nicely observed, and the narrative offers a sweet perspective on some very heavily traveled turf. (June)
 

I've always wanted to excel at what I do. I like being good at things. I like exceeding others expectations. I'm definitely one of those people that gets motivated by someone telling me I can't do something.

I know when it came to having a family I wasn't going to let a little infertility stand in my way. I also know with Noah I'm not going to let the alphabet soup of RAD and ADHD and BPD and PDD stand in my way of doing every damn thing possible to help him. Like Jack Rosenblum I'm going to have my "golf course," were of course golf course = healthy family.

That is one of the things that makes parenting so difficult for me, because I know I'm not always the best mom I could be. There are a hell of a lot of times I think I really suck at this gig. Other times I know I'm doing OK.

I may not have the drive to build empires, or even golf courses, but I do have the drive to work as hard as I can to be the best mother I can be. Fuck RAD and mood disorders and ADHD and people that don't understand, I'm going to kick their ass and build my own little empire of four (or should I say fore?). I started this weekend at the 2nd Annual Early Trauma and Attachment Annual Meeting, which I'll write more about soon.

This post was inspired by Mr. Rosenblum Dreams In English, the March pick for the "From Left to Write" Book Club. A copy of this book was provided to me by the publishers. I am not being compensated for this post and all opinions are my own.

I loved the book by the way! Highly recommend!

Parenting resources I love!

Rich and I have been working very hard the last year on our parenting skills. It's been tough changing our admittedly lax parenting style. Maybe lax isn't the right word, perhaps passive is a better term? We have really struggled with understanding what Noah can actually control with his behavior and what is part of his "condition." It has taken us a while, but I think what we are coming to realize is that even though he has a long list of diagnoses attached to him, ultimately he CAN control a lot of his behavior. It took us seeing others (i.e., his teacher, his karate instructor) setting firm limits and expectations, and seeing him rise to their expectations, to make us realize what wimps we were being as parents. Love really doesn't "cure" everything, and by giving him unconditional love without clear expectations as to what we expected with his behavior, we were basically allowing him to run the show.

I've been exploring parenting resources recently as we work on being more consistent and firm with Noah. I've found some interesting and useful websites, and have been following some great people on Twitter that I thought I would share with you.


Kimberley Clayton Blaine The Go-To Mom is a national child development expert and a licensed Family and Child Therapist who specializes in working with children ages newborn to six years old. She has a new book out, Mommy Confidence: 8 Easy Steps to Reclaiming Balance, Motivation and Your Inner Diva. I haven't read the book yet, but I've spent some time on her website and have found some great stuff to help me with Kiel and the struggles of raising a toddler. Noah might be our challenging child, but I can always use help with Kiel too, especially so I don't repeat any of the mistakes I made with Noah. You can find her on Twitter as The Go To Mom

I've been receiving emails from parent coach Susan Epstein for a few months. I'm embarrassed to admit that I just started actually reading them lately and am finding some great parenting information in them to help with Noah. Her website Parenting Powers has some great tools (both for sale and free) as well as blogs written by her parenting coaches. Sign up for her emails. I think you'll find some good stuff there. I haven't bought any of her products, so I can't speak for them, but what I've found on her website has been helpful. She's also on Twitter.

And of course you know I've been trying out the Total Transformation Program which I'm reviewing on my review blog. I'm way behind on my review posts though.

***********************************

Some Twitter Links:

ADHDParenting I've found some great 140 character tips here, and some good links.

5MinforSpecialNeeds

TheFamilyCoach


Let me know what parenting sites you find helpful!!

Trou dropping or ball dropping?

So, apparently there were some things we didn't prepare Noah for for kindergarten.

Number one being how to pee like a "big boy."

Up until now he's been dropping trou to his ankles and letting it fly. I guess having his bare ass hang out for all to see has gotten him teased. Of course it doesn't help that he refuses to close the bathroom door because he's still scared of toilets.

So, apparently someone showed him how to pee without taking down his tighty whities by slipping it out the leg hole. He showed Rich this weekend.

But what do we do when he's wearing boxer briefs? Poor kid, but I don't think he's long enough to slip it out that way.

I feel like we dropped the ball here.

I definitely don't remember reading this in the raising boys manual.

Advice anyone?

Update: No flaps in his briefs or boxers. What's up with that?

Wow, big storm Tuesday night left us without power for a while, and then with out cable and internet until last night! Talk about blog withdrawal! I've been getting in to this daily posting bit, especially since my husband has been letting me use his laptop and I can blog while lounging on the couch!

So, without the distraction of TV or the internet, I've been forced to do some thinking (oy, my brain hurts). Actually, some of the pain is likely from the bonking my head took from the flashlight darling TB laid in to it Tuesday afternoon. I'm still not sure if this was an intentional come up behind mommy and hit her in the head from behind, or it was just a random throw up in the air and my head got in the way mishap. Regardless, TB was taught a new word/phrase (little son of a bitch) and spent a good amount of time in his room while I cried it out in mine. At least it wasn't the stroke I initially thought was going on before I realized what had happened.

But yes, back to the thinking. I realize I need to do something different. What I'm doing with TB now isn't working. So I'm going to search out some help for ME this time, and try and figure out how to be a different kind of mother.

It's interesting, because at work for the last year or so we've been doing some team building to try and get us through some interpersonal issues with our boss and my coworkers. Being a small group of 1 boss and 4 employees (all of us women) we've needed the help. Our last session was spent talking about how our boss is unlikely to change, so instead of bitching about her all the time, maybe we need to change things up which will hopefully force her to react differently to us. So, it makes sense that if this can work with a 40 something menopausal woman, why couldn't it work with my 3 1/2 year old terror.

But, first, I think I need help knowing just how to change it up. Cause my screaming is definitely not work. And sitting on the couch letting him do what ever because I'm too exhausted to stop him, isn't doing much either.

So I feel good just saying that. Plus, we actually had a nice evening last night. And when I read him stories before bed he really cuddled in and then wanted snuggles as he fell asleep.

I'm really not enjoying being a mother these days...

I'm really not enjoying being a mother these days. Pretty awful thing to say isn't it. Made even worse by the fact that I'm trying so hard to get pregnant. Confusing, huh? Yeah, for me too.

I'm struggling, really struggling, right now trying to be a good mother to
The Boy. I never, ever, thought it could be this difficult. Two years ago when we started to think something wasn't quite right, we were frustrated, and scared at what the future would hold. It took us a good year to find TB the right help, and even longer to get some of it actually in place. So now he's had a good year plus of occupational therapy for his sensory issues, attachment therapy for his attachment, and a special instructor to help fill in some of the gaps. We've had over six months with a behavioral specialist and therapeutic support staff (TSS) at school. So why does his behavior seem to be getting worse instead of better. What are we missing?

This morning I went in to get him from his room and he was sitting there tearing up one of his books. It's at least the tenth book he's destroyed in the last two months. We don't even keep books in his room anymore. I'm not sure how this one got in there. Then at breakfast he carried his glass of milk into the living room and deliberately dumped it on the carpet. As I was cleaning it up he grabbed the roll of paper towel and threw it down the basement stairs. When I told him to go get it he brought it back up and unwound it every where. Then he grabbed a fresh apricot from the counter, ate half of it, and smashed the rest with his foot in to the carpet.

After his OT appointment today when I was talking to his therapist he ran down the hall, out the door, through the parking lot and in to the playground. Once there he got in one of the toys where I couldn't get him. At the store later he continually kicked me in stomach while he was sitting in the cart, and grabbed at my shirt refusing to let go. Then he yelled the entire time we were in the grocery store.

At lunch he spit his drink all over, then "swished" his food all over the floor.

He's in bed now for a nap. I have about 90 minutes of peace until it starts all over again.

I try to be as consistent as possible with him. We do time outs, but they only really work at home. Some times we do swats on the tuss, but again, I'm not comfortable doing them in public because of the stories I've heard about how it can be misinterpreted. So in public we take things away, or don't let him have treats (like the cookie at the grocery store). I try not to yell because that makes it worse, guaranteed.

The few times lately where I feel we are doing well together and having a good time, it seems that as soon as I breath a sigh of relief and start to enjoy it, he turns in to a monster.

I realize that TB isn't here to entertain me, and it's not on him to make me happy, but damn it, isn't there supposed to be something enjoyable about parenting?

If I had heard someone talk like this four years ago when we were making the decision to stop fertility treatment and start the process of adoption, I would have been horrified. What a horrible, selfish woman I would have said. She doesn't deserve to have a child. Of course back then I would never have had a child that screamed in the grocery store, or spit out his food at other people, or ran away from me, over and over again (cause you know, my children would be perfect, because I'd be the perfect mother).

I think if anyone who knew me knew I felt like this they would be shocked. I always thought I was meant to be a mother, I hope I wasn't wrong.

Moving forward with a smile...and various blathering on about nothing

So I rolled myself out of bed this morning and made it to work. Other than dumping his bag of chex mix in the car The Boy and I had a good morning. Only minor struggles getting dressed and sun screened up. I even managed to hold back the tears while driving.

Once at work I did much better. Although tired (probably from the double xanax Sunday night) I managed to accomplish and interact appropriately. I even had an amazing conversation with my boss. She has been very supportive through all of this, far more than I had thought possible. There was a time when I don't think she could have expressed concern or support, because she would have been so focused on the thought that if i did get pregnant I would take time off to have the damn baby. Considering I would be the fourth employee in less than two years for this to happen to, I guess I can't blame her. But, she's surprised me and handled this all very well. Or, maybe she just doesn't believe it will happen so isn't all that concerned. But no, that really isn't fair of me, because she has been so kind and really opened up to me today about her own pregnancy several years ago. Believe me, this was a big deal!

So yeah, may be not quite as empty today as yesterday. Although when I stepped on the scale this morning and saw I'd gained ten pounds during this cycle, I realized I shouldn't be empty at all, cause apparently I've been stuffing my face for the last two months. So if I chose to stop being depressed over the BFN I can be depressed about gaining back ten pounds of the 40 pounds I worked so hard to lose last winter. God damn roller coaster. If it isn't dieting, it's infertility. They don't really compliment each other very well at all.

On the bright side of things, TB actually snuggled up with me on the couch today and watched a movie. I'd say I got a good 30 minutes of cuddle time before his body went in to movement withdrawal and he was forced to get up and shake everything in a bizarre fashion. But really, 30 minutes is amazing for him. And considering it's been a good month since he's sat like that with me for any length of time, I have to say it was a good day. Perhaps he senses the hormones fading from my body.

Speaking of hormones, the ol' period started today. I figure this one will be a doozy considering what a rich, lush lining I had from all that progesterone. Plus, I'm still having occasional cramping from my ovaries. And....drum roll please....I had my first aura today. No, not one of those good touchy feely hippy crystal yoga type auras (cause that one would probably be black or at least grey right now) but a true migraine aura. Let me just tell you that was f'ing weird. I was in a meeting and we were looking at all these papers and I felt like I had looked in to a spot light for too long, because I couldn't see parts of the papers, and I had this metallic silver ring on the left side of my visual field. I guess I must have been looking pretty weird, maybe something to do with trying to read with one eye closed and the continual repositioning of the papers in front of my face. So one of my coworkers asked me what was wrong and I was all like "I think I'm having a stroke." Just like my husband though no one took me too seriously, but my boss (score TWO points for her today) said it sounded like I was having an aura. Well fuck if she wasn't right, because about an hour later the pain started. So I popped an Imitrex and about 45 minutes later life was dandy again. I think i like this aura bit, because instead of waiting until I knew the headache was a migraine, I drugged up right away and didn't have to hide in the dark under my desk from the pain.

Tomorrow is a TB and Mommy day. Whoo hoo. Supposedly we have OT in the morning, but she cancelled last week, and the four weeks before that was summer break. OT is great for TB, and our days tend to be better after he has a session, but the hall I have to wait in isn't air conditioned, and since it's supposed to be another hot mother tomorrow (100+ degrees) I'm not so sure I want to go.

There's a new kids place in our town, called Jungle Jim's Kids Zone. It looks interesting, and I spoke with the owner yesterday to find out more about it. It sounds like mornings are free play/mom's morning out type set up. They have a snack bar with coffee and tea, etc. Sounds great, except for the fact that I might have to actually socialize with another human being. In between making sure TB isn't jumping on another child. So yeah, not so sure about this. New venue, worry that no one will talk to me... takes me all the way back to highschool. Oh shit...what do I wear?

Damn, maybe I should just go to Target and let TB eat popcorn and create a trail through he store (in case we get lost you know, he's very up on his fairy tales). We do need diapers. Oh man, that's a post for another day. TB will be 3 1/2 in August, and he's no wear near wanting to be potty trained. The pediatrician said not to worry, he won't go to college in diapers. He didn't promise he wouldn't start highschool that way though.

Mommy Guilt Sucks!

The guilt associated with being a Mom sucks. And husbands have the ability to magnify it ten fold. Don't they understand that we already feel guilty every time we don't do everything! Just by not doing something, or not being there, or god forbid - take time to ourselves, or get sick, we feel guilt. Any act of non-support from them just makes us feel worse.

Then, we feel even worse, because we know we shouldn't have to feel guilty. That we deserve some time/space/shopping/time to heal, etc.. So we feel guilty for feeling guilty. And mad and frustrated that our spouse isn't telling us to enjoy, relax, take some time, don't think of us, etc..

So we feel guilt, mix it up with a good dose of frustration and plain old "pissed off." And we might as well not have even tried, because now we feel even worse.

Guilt is like the dust bunny in the corner. It grows exponentially with time.