I'm sure y'all are sick of me harping on my laissez-faire attitude about my children eating sweets and how I constantly feel judged for it by Fun Sink and my SIL, but I have something to add to my growing list of evidence that my philosophy isn't really so bad.
Have you seen the monster cookie at the Homemade Pie Kitchen? It's a large chocolate chip cookie, folded in half, filled with icing, and accentuated with a "monster" face--it's over-the-top, and my kids seem to love the silly look of it more than they love actually eating it.
Miss A.M. had a field trip today, and I packed one of these monster cookies as a special treat. Incidentally, her lunch was commensurate with those of the other children--most included sandwiches, fruit, veggies, and some special sweets since it was a field trip. This tells me that--this will come as a shock to Fun Sink--I'm not a bad mom. I'm doing the same exact thing as all the other moms.
A.M. finished her lunch and took exactly one bite of the monster cookie. One bite. This happens more often than not, because she knows it will not be the first and last cookie she will ever encounter, and I'm fine with that even if it means a monster cookie is going to waste. What happens when Sophie has unsupervised access to M&Ms? Gluttony followed by tummyache followed by lots of anti-chocolate propaganda. My kid doesn't have to go ape sh*t on the monster cookie because she knows there'll be another cookie, another day--and she'll probably take one bite of that one, too.
That is all...other than that E. had a fever yesterday while visiting Fun Sink, and Fun Sink wanted to take her to the doctor. Herself. I admit that maybe I'm being over-sensitive here and maybe Fun Sink really did just want to help, but I feel like doctor visits fall strictly within the realm of parental responsibility. What's next, educational guardianship?
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Julep: Bright and early
I got to the office at 6:20 am. Why? Because my dear darling husband, light of my life, decided to wake me up at 3:45 am as he was coming to bed. He did not merely accidentally bump the mattress when sneaking upstairs after having fallen asleep on the couch. Oh no. He spoke to me. And not only did he speak to me, he kept on talking until I answered him.
Has this man forgotten everything that we learned in Freshman Marriage? I must not be awoken after 3 am on a work night. I am a very good sleeper in my first deep sleep. He can come to bed anytime before 2 or 2:30 am and have no fear that I will wake up. But I'm also a good waker. And once I've moved into a lighter sleep stage, if something (someone) wakes me up the rest of my night is shot to shit. We spent a long time on this lesson back in the first year course! We should not need to repeat this remedial material now that we have moved into Graduate Marriage Studies!
Apparently Mr. J fell asleep on the couch, and when he got up to stagger upstairs, he realized that Brown Dog had had some tummy trouble of the poo variety. (I suspect he stepped in it.) And he cleaned it up. Good on him. I would have been happy to praise him to the skies for this good husbandry if he had waited until 7 am to tell me about it, but I just don't see back-patting over basic house hygiene as something I need to wake up for.
Apparently unsatisfied by my continued silence, he wanted to warn me to wear shoes when I went downstairs in the morning, in case she had had more issues. "Honey! Honey, did you hear me? Honey! Be sure to wear your shoes when you go downstairs, okay? Honey? Honey, are you listening?"
Honey. The Post-It note is a wonderful invention that can be used for a hundred helpful purposes. One of them is the hand-off of information between the Night Shift and the Early Riser. God gave us a bathroom mirror. Use it. Do not wake my @$$ up at 3:45 in the morning unless there is a looming act of God that requires the family to relocate to the bomb shelter in the basement or someone is actively suffering from a dire illness that I can treat. Are we clear on that? 'K Thx Bye.
I warned him that if I were still lying awake at 5 am, I was going to get up and come to the office. He is on his own with Babycakes this morning. And I don't feel bad about it.
P.S. ... Twinks, congrats on the new addition! She's darling! Hoping to stop by the hospital with Dibbs later today.
Has this man forgotten everything that we learned in Freshman Marriage? I must not be awoken after 3 am on a work night. I am a very good sleeper in my first deep sleep. He can come to bed anytime before 2 or 2:30 am and have no fear that I will wake up. But I'm also a good waker. And once I've moved into a lighter sleep stage, if something (someone) wakes me up the rest of my night is shot to shit. We spent a long time on this lesson back in the first year course! We should not need to repeat this remedial material now that we have moved into Graduate Marriage Studies!
Apparently Mr. J fell asleep on the couch, and when he got up to stagger upstairs, he realized that Brown Dog had had some tummy trouble of the poo variety. (I suspect he stepped in it.) And he cleaned it up. Good on him. I would have been happy to praise him to the skies for this good husbandry if he had waited until 7 am to tell me about it, but I just don't see back-patting over basic house hygiene as something I need to wake up for.
Apparently unsatisfied by my continued silence, he wanted to warn me to wear shoes when I went downstairs in the morning, in case she had had more issues. "Honey! Honey, did you hear me? Honey! Be sure to wear your shoes when you go downstairs, okay? Honey? Honey, are you listening?"
Honey. The Post-It note is a wonderful invention that can be used for a hundred helpful purposes. One of them is the hand-off of information between the Night Shift and the Early Riser. God gave us a bathroom mirror. Use it. Do not wake my @$$ up at 3:45 in the morning unless there is a looming act of God that requires the family to relocate to the bomb shelter in the basement or someone is actively suffering from a dire illness that I can treat. Are we clear on that? 'K Thx Bye.
I warned him that if I were still lying awake at 5 am, I was going to get up and come to the office. He is on his own with Babycakes this morning. And I don't feel bad about it.
P.S. ... Twinks, congrats on the new addition! She's darling! Hoping to stop by the hospital with Dibbs later today.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Twinkle: Fun Sink Sucks Joy From Joyful Occasions
So, today was the birth of Baby B, a healthy and happy and ever-so-tiny baby girl, and I'm not going to mar a joyous occasion by dwelling too much on Fun Sink. But my gosh that woman is dour. I just gave birth to her grandchild, yet she barely said boo to me the whole day. Instead she just tried to boss everyone around, especially big sisters A and E, whom I was missing desperately and with whom I would have liked to have had a meaningful conversation about the new addition and how they were feeling (or in E's case, the 18-month-old equivalent pf a meaningful conversation: a little extra snuggle time).
Fun Sink had to boss them around like a drill sergeant. She thought everyone was taking up too much space in the hallway while B was getting her first bath in the window of the nursery. Everyone in both families was having fun watching her, and all Fun Sink coukd do was tell everyone to spread out and get out of the way. She wanted my hospital bed out of the way, too (I was lucky enough to be wheeled by as the bath was happening), and E wanted to cuddle with her mama, and all Fun Sink could do was yell at everyone about blocking the hallway.
She also happened to come into the room after B and I had been engaging in a little feeding and skin-to-skin...so B was haphazardly wrapped in blankets so that the grandparents could get their first chances to hold her that much sooner. Fun Sink had to be all, "That is NOT a very good swaddle." It wasn't a swaddle at all. It wasn't supposed to be a swaddle--we knew the grandparents were anxious to hold her so I guess Mr. Twinks didn't bother with the swaddle. But she just has to comment negatively on everything.
In other news, I think I might be giving my children candy just to piss off Fun Sink. A asked if she could have a little packet of the new baby's personalized M&Ms, even though it was right before dinner. I said she could because it was a special occasion...but really I just wanted to see what Fun Sink would say. True to dour form, Fun Sink told her she needed to wait until after dinner, and when A started to protest that I said it was ok, I was all, "No, Fun Sink--I told her she could have those because it's a special day." It shut her up, but she hated it.
I'm just over all of it. Maybe it's the hormones or the drugs or the fact that I'm now responsible for three little girls and I'd like rule over them benevolently, but I have just had it with Fun Sink's incessant nagging and negativity, and I cannot stay quiet anymore.
Fun Sink had to boss them around like a drill sergeant. She thought everyone was taking up too much space in the hallway while B was getting her first bath in the window of the nursery. Everyone in both families was having fun watching her, and all Fun Sink coukd do was tell everyone to spread out and get out of the way. She wanted my hospital bed out of the way, too (I was lucky enough to be wheeled by as the bath was happening), and E wanted to cuddle with her mama, and all Fun Sink could do was yell at everyone about blocking the hallway.
She also happened to come into the room after B and I had been engaging in a little feeding and skin-to-skin...so B was haphazardly wrapped in blankets so that the grandparents could get their first chances to hold her that much sooner. Fun Sink had to be all, "That is NOT a very good swaddle." It wasn't a swaddle at all. It wasn't supposed to be a swaddle--we knew the grandparents were anxious to hold her so I guess Mr. Twinks didn't bother with the swaddle. But she just has to comment negatively on everything.
In other news, I think I might be giving my children candy just to piss off Fun Sink. A asked if she could have a little packet of the new baby's personalized M&Ms, even though it was right before dinner. I said she could because it was a special occasion...but really I just wanted to see what Fun Sink would say. True to dour form, Fun Sink told her she needed to wait until after dinner, and when A started to protest that I said it was ok, I was all, "No, Fun Sink--I told her she could have those because it's a special day." It shut her up, but she hated it.
I'm just over all of it. Maybe it's the hormones or the drugs or the fact that I'm now responsible for three little girls and I'd like rule over them benevolently, but I have just had it with Fun Sink's incessant nagging and negativity, and I cannot stay quiet anymore.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Twinkle: Is This A Cultural Issue?
So I asked Mr. Twinkle about this tonight, because I noticed that the prevailing atmosphere in his family is one where children run around acting like children, and each one has at least three adult family members just straight-up b*tching them at any (or every) given moment. We haven't had time to discuss this yet in-depth, as he's wrapping up a few things from work, but I asked him if, when he was a child, everyone in the family b*tched at him all the time. He said he didn't remember acting like that. Well, they were just acting like children, so if what he said was true, I guess it confirms my theory that he was born an old man. But I suspect he did act like a child at some point in his childhood, and when he did his mother and other adult family members beat it right out of him.
It is a constant chorus of "Twinklette, don't do this," and "Sophie, don't do that," coming from at least three different sources at a time. It's just not something I want to be part of--and the hard thing is that I out of everyone should be the one disciplining my children.
If I were them, I'd tune all of it out, and that's exactly what they seem to do. So all the b*tching at them just seems like a big waste of everyone's energy.
It also makes it harder when they really are doing something for which they need to be corrected. Because if they're getting b*tched at for the things that they're really not doing wrong, they're not going to hear the reprimand when they really need to.
I think I'm going to sit down with Twinklette and tell her that, in a setting like that, she needs to listen to me and only me. I do want Twinklette to respect other authority figures, but I'm past caring if Fun Sink's authority is undermined--she undermines it herself with her constant unnecessary corrections, and she's also undermining mine. My opinions about behavior are the only ones that should count--and I honestly believe that when five people correct Twinklette at once, she's more inclined to ignore them and do whatever she wants. All I have to do is come up to her and nicely say, "Could you please use a quiet voice?" (or whatever), and that works much better.
At least I get to be the sweet one--and I do try to discipline her as kindly as I can, as long as asking nicely is working. The one time tonight when I actually did need to reprimand her, I did so firmly--and she listened (and I also had to say to Fun Sink--"I've got it. I've got it.") I'm just not in the mood to suffer fools right now, and it's absolutely exhausting to have to fight through a chorus of nagging voices to get my children to hear me.
It is a constant chorus of "Twinklette, don't do this," and "Sophie, don't do that," coming from at least three different sources at a time. It's just not something I want to be part of--and the hard thing is that I out of everyone should be the one disciplining my children.
If I were them, I'd tune all of it out, and that's exactly what they seem to do. So all the b*tching at them just seems like a big waste of everyone's energy.
It also makes it harder when they really are doing something for which they need to be corrected. Because if they're getting b*tched at for the things that they're really not doing wrong, they're not going to hear the reprimand when they really need to.
I think I'm going to sit down with Twinklette and tell her that, in a setting like that, she needs to listen to me and only me. I do want Twinklette to respect other authority figures, but I'm past caring if Fun Sink's authority is undermined--she undermines it herself with her constant unnecessary corrections, and she's also undermining mine. My opinions about behavior are the only ones that should count--and I honestly believe that when five people correct Twinklette at once, she's more inclined to ignore them and do whatever she wants. All I have to do is come up to her and nicely say, "Could you please use a quiet voice?" (or whatever), and that works much better.
At least I get to be the sweet one--and I do try to discipline her as kindly as I can, as long as asking nicely is working. The one time tonight when I actually did need to reprimand her, I did so firmly--and she listened (and I also had to say to Fun Sink--"I've got it. I've got it.") I'm just not in the mood to suffer fools right now, and it's absolutely exhausting to have to fight through a chorus of nagging voices to get my children to hear me.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Twinkle: My In-Laws Are On My Nerves
So, I'm having a baby in about 36 hours, and that makes me a little sentimental about our family as it is right now: a dad, a mom, and two little girls. I was excited to learn that my girls would be off school Monday and Tuesday of this week, and I've been looking forward to spending time with them and having a special day of just being together and enjoying things as they are right now. I think that's probably normal and not too much to ask for. We're not doing anything too strenuous--running last-minute errands, going to lunch with Mr. Twinkle, maybe hitting a park or getting ice cream or something, just to make the day special before we drop them off at my in-laws' to spend the night, as our hospital arrival Tuesday is scheduled for 5:30 a.m. and that kind of wake-up time would turn my two little angels into complete monsters.
Well, my in-laws will not leave us alone about the girls coming over to play tomorrow. Sophie's in town, and you know that means we have to drop everything so the cousins can play together. I usually don't mind. I love Sophie and, as an only child, I am a big fan of cousin bonding. When she's here I always try to make time with her a priority. As I said before, they're spending the night tomorrow night, but apparently that's not enough. Also, I'm going to be in the hospital all week and Mr. Twinkle has a job he should probably report to at some point. We will need help with school pickups and after-school childcare, so there will be lots of opportunities--other than tomorrow--for fun cousin playtime. Why can't they understand that tomorrow is my time with my girls? Why is this something anyone even has to explain to them?
We all went to the Boo at the Zoo tonight, and those freaks are just absolutely crazy about controlling candy intake. Here's the funny thing--I refuse to be a jerk about Halloween candy at a Halloween party, and my girls didn't eat any more or any less candy than Sophie. They all ate exactly the same amount: one candy item and one bag of pretzels each--which I think is completely reasonable--and my girls did it without my having to police them about it and bitch at them and fight with them the whole time.
We went to Bearno's after, where my SIL and her husband proceeded to order a pizza without any cheese. I'm sorry, if you're going to order a fucking pizza without cheese (aka crust with a bunch of vegetables on top), why are we at a pizza place at all? Why not go somewhere where everyone can just order off the normal menu, maybe someplace known for its salads? Just when I think they can't get any more annoying, they order a pizza without any cheese.
Fun Sink was in rare form at the zoo. She kept trying to lead the children away from anywhere they could run around freely and have fun. There was one place where you could climb on these big Legos. Fun Sink tried to slip by without the children noticing. She even tried to get them past the pumpkin/hay maze, which I think is really fun for kids, and it's not at all hard to keep up with them because the hay bales are set up to be really low. It's one of the best parts of the Boo at the Zoo, because the kids can just run freely and have fun. She cannot handle kids running around having fun. For her the zoo is a series of destinations to be conquered. It actually explains a lot about Mr. Twinkle's disposition, but I was having none of it. We went there in the first place so the girls could have fun and be children, and I would rather not get through the whole zoo than enjoy it in a half-assed manner where we rush through the whole thing and everyone's behavior is regimented. If my girls want to climb on the Legos and run around the hay maze, climb and run they will.
She also really made me mad when she corrected Twinklette. Twinklette really hasn't ever had many words that she mispronounces, like most kids do when they're learning to talk. She has always just been really good at pronunciation--I always wanted to have those cute stories that parents have about adorable mispronunciations, but they've been few and far between. One exception to this rule is that, instead of pretzel, Twinklette says "PRINC-el." I think it's adorable, and I love it, and I want to call them PRINC-els from now on. Fun Sink corrected her tonight. Where does she get off? Twinklette is four years old--she gets to have one little remnant of baby talk cuteness without Fun Sink's interference. She actually knows it's pretzel, because PRINC-el went away for awhile. But PRINC-el just comes naturally to her, and I think it's adorable, and I don't appreciate Fun Sink correcting her on it. As far as I'm concerned, she can say PRINC-el as long as she wants--and I will say it forever.
She also freaked out when I let Twinklette go running off after Sophie and her parents. As if I'd let her run anywhere where I couldn't see her--as if I wouldn't discipline her myself if she went running off into a crowd or something. Fun Sink started angrily yelling at Twinklette to "come back here" and I was all, "She's just running over to Sophie" and Fun Sink said, "They're LEAVING." Well, OK, that may have been the case, but I could see her at the time--she was probably 10 yards away with no one in between us--and she was already with them by the time Fun Sink had a chance to react, so why don't we all just chill out and not yell at Twinklette when she is not doing anything out of the ordinary for a normal, excited four-year-old and I, her mother, have ascertained that she's safe. Clearly Fun Sink has a major problem with freedom within boundaries.
Fun Sink also taught Tiny T to blow on her food, which I think is the epitome of tacky. It may be all the rage if you're living in a hut in Poland, but here in America it's considered bad form. I don't want to teach my children any behavior they can't carry with them to a state dinner if they're ever invited, and now I'll have to break Tiny T of this tacky habit. Apparently Twinklette told Fun Sink it was tacky--haha. I wish I could have been there for that conversation.
Well, my in-laws will not leave us alone about the girls coming over to play tomorrow. Sophie's in town, and you know that means we have to drop everything so the cousins can play together. I usually don't mind. I love Sophie and, as an only child, I am a big fan of cousin bonding. When she's here I always try to make time with her a priority. As I said before, they're spending the night tomorrow night, but apparently that's not enough. Also, I'm going to be in the hospital all week and Mr. Twinkle has a job he should probably report to at some point. We will need help with school pickups and after-school childcare, so there will be lots of opportunities--other than tomorrow--for fun cousin playtime. Why can't they understand that tomorrow is my time with my girls? Why is this something anyone even has to explain to them?
We all went to the Boo at the Zoo tonight, and those freaks are just absolutely crazy about controlling candy intake. Here's the funny thing--I refuse to be a jerk about Halloween candy at a Halloween party, and my girls didn't eat any more or any less candy than Sophie. They all ate exactly the same amount: one candy item and one bag of pretzels each--which I think is completely reasonable--and my girls did it without my having to police them about it and bitch at them and fight with them the whole time.
We went to Bearno's after, where my SIL and her husband proceeded to order a pizza without any cheese. I'm sorry, if you're going to order a fucking pizza without cheese (aka crust with a bunch of vegetables on top), why are we at a pizza place at all? Why not go somewhere where everyone can just order off the normal menu, maybe someplace known for its salads? Just when I think they can't get any more annoying, they order a pizza without any cheese.
Fun Sink was in rare form at the zoo. She kept trying to lead the children away from anywhere they could run around freely and have fun. There was one place where you could climb on these big Legos. Fun Sink tried to slip by without the children noticing. She even tried to get them past the pumpkin/hay maze, which I think is really fun for kids, and it's not at all hard to keep up with them because the hay bales are set up to be really low. It's one of the best parts of the Boo at the Zoo, because the kids can just run freely and have fun. She cannot handle kids running around having fun. For her the zoo is a series of destinations to be conquered. It actually explains a lot about Mr. Twinkle's disposition, but I was having none of it. We went there in the first place so the girls could have fun and be children, and I would rather not get through the whole zoo than enjoy it in a half-assed manner where we rush through the whole thing and everyone's behavior is regimented. If my girls want to climb on the Legos and run around the hay maze, climb and run they will.
She also really made me mad when she corrected Twinklette. Twinklette really hasn't ever had many words that she mispronounces, like most kids do when they're learning to talk. She has always just been really good at pronunciation--I always wanted to have those cute stories that parents have about adorable mispronunciations, but they've been few and far between. One exception to this rule is that, instead of pretzel, Twinklette says "PRINC-el." I think it's adorable, and I love it, and I want to call them PRINC-els from now on. Fun Sink corrected her tonight. Where does she get off? Twinklette is four years old--she gets to have one little remnant of baby talk cuteness without Fun Sink's interference. She actually knows it's pretzel, because PRINC-el went away for awhile. But PRINC-el just comes naturally to her, and I think it's adorable, and I don't appreciate Fun Sink correcting her on it. As far as I'm concerned, she can say PRINC-el as long as she wants--and I will say it forever.
She also freaked out when I let Twinklette go running off after Sophie and her parents. As if I'd let her run anywhere where I couldn't see her--as if I wouldn't discipline her myself if she went running off into a crowd or something. Fun Sink started angrily yelling at Twinklette to "come back here" and I was all, "She's just running over to Sophie" and Fun Sink said, "They're LEAVING." Well, OK, that may have been the case, but I could see her at the time--she was probably 10 yards away with no one in between us--and she was already with them by the time Fun Sink had a chance to react, so why don't we all just chill out and not yell at Twinklette when she is not doing anything out of the ordinary for a normal, excited four-year-old and I, her mother, have ascertained that she's safe. Clearly Fun Sink has a major problem with freedom within boundaries.
Fun Sink also taught Tiny T to blow on her food, which I think is the epitome of tacky. It may be all the rage if you're living in a hut in Poland, but here in America it's considered bad form. I don't want to teach my children any behavior they can't carry with them to a state dinner if they're ever invited, and now I'll have to break Tiny T of this tacky habit. Apparently Twinklette told Fun Sink it was tacky--haha. I wish I could have been there for that conversation.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Julep: Details, details
Here is the link the Details article I mentioned last night, about the "stigma of the never married man." (And apropos of another conversation, here's a fun one on "strays," i.e. straight guys whom everyone thinks are gay.)
Re the never married man ... I was thinking about this earlier, and I know plenty of fabulous women at x age and beyond, and I don't think of any of them in the same way that we view the Never Married Man. I've decided that it isn't the simple fact that the guy isn't married at x age that pushes him into the pathetic-creepster zone. It's the attitidue and accessories.
If a man is single and in his late thirties or early forties, it's probably because he spent far too much time dating hot young things instead of his fabulous and age-appropriate peers. Maybe he had a long-term serious relationship that never worked out, or he just never met the right person. But mostly he didn't meet the right person because he was busy with the hot Starbucks barista or trainer from his gym.
Once that hot girl starts to be 15 or 20 years younger than he is ... it's pathetic and creepy. And his fabulous, age-appropriate peers turn a jaundiced eye towards a man who spent his late-twenties and thirties hunting bimbos and honing his muscle definition. Having spent their own time honing their character and conversation skills via volunteer endeavors and witty banter over cocktails with girlfriends, the women of his age cohort are now out of his league. Who wants to marry a guy who hasn't had an adult conversation with a female in over a decade?
Re the never married man ... I was thinking about this earlier, and I know plenty of fabulous women at x age and beyond, and I don't think of any of them in the same way that we view the Never Married Man. I've decided that it isn't the simple fact that the guy isn't married at x age that pushes him into the pathetic-creepster zone. It's the attitidue and accessories.
If a man is single and in his late thirties or early forties, it's probably because he spent far too much time dating hot young things instead of his fabulous and age-appropriate peers. Maybe he had a long-term serious relationship that never worked out, or he just never met the right person. But mostly he didn't meet the right person because he was busy with the hot Starbucks barista or trainer from his gym.
Once that hot girl starts to be 15 or 20 years younger than he is ... it's pathetic and creepy. And his fabulous, age-appropriate peers turn a jaundiced eye towards a man who spent his late-twenties and thirties hunting bimbos and honing his muscle definition. Having spent their own time honing their character and conversation skills via volunteer endeavors and witty banter over cocktails with girlfriends, the women of his age cohort are now out of his league. Who wants to marry a guy who hasn't had an adult conversation with a female in over a decade?
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