Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Mom Guilt Gifts

I am the ultimate mom stereotype at Target today.  I pulled up in my minivan, strapped the baby to my front and lifted the toddler, LOUDLY SINGING a song in gibberish loosely inspired by "Hakuna Matata" into the cart.  I'm feeling svelte today in my Costco jeans and flannel button up, one day out from a fast but furious stomach flu that touched the lives of all who met it like a dead person who did nice things except this virus did horrible things and it seems it will never die.

I'm at target to buy an "I'm Sorry My Daughter Threw Up On Your Rug: I Didn't Know She Had the Stomach Flu" rug and an "I'm Sorry I Infected You and Your Whole Family With Our Stomach Flu Because My Baby Put His Hand in Your Mouth: I Thought He Was Well Again" card.  The second one doesn't exist but I looked. It's kinda niche market, the whole "throw up apology gift" thing, isn't it? But, Target, if anyone were to start carrying a line of these items, it would would YOU.

I also had to buy an assortment of mismatched frames to compensate for the fact that I can't hang pictures correctly, Gatorade, rice, and other delicacies. Basically, I spend $150 as per usual.

They are remodeling my local Target, so I got lost and then the toddler had to pee before I found where they'd stashed the kid water bottles because none of ours have a complete set, so I was in Target for a LONG time today and thought of some more apology products.

Disclaimer: I'm of the mind that we don't need to apologize for our kids like those parents who hand out goodie bags to the "poor, unfortunate souls" who have to share an airplane with a child who may or may not have an inner ear catastrophe while in flight.  HOWEVER. I am kinda the worst in this stage of life and I hope the following gifts will help people forgive me.

To the person I cut off during the confusing four way stop by my house:
"I'm Sorry I Can't Figure Out Whose Turn it Is to Go Because I'm Fielding a Hungry Toddler and a Hangry Baby and Probably Shouldn't Be Driving Because I'm Super Tired" cactus

To my Mom Friend:
"I'm Sorry We Can't Be Friends Anymore Because Our Kids' Nap Schedules Don't Align" candle

To the Waitress:
"I'm Sorry I Didn't Pick Up the Cracker Crumbs my Toddler Left on Your Floor: I Just Wanted to Get Out of There Before She Decided to Lie Down on the Floor and Have an Exit Tantrum" coffee mug

To My Husband:
"I'm Sorry the House Looks like This and Also I Didn't Make Dinner But Everyone Cried All Day Today and I Didn't Want To" decorative vase

To My Childless Friend:
"I'm Sorry I Dramatically Rolled My Eyes When You Said Caring for Your Pet Is Just Like Having A Child" flower pot

To the Baby:
"I'm Sorry Your Nap Got Ruined by Your Sister Coming in And Asking If You Wanted To Go to the Zoo: I Was Peeing and Didn't Catch Her in Time" teething toy

To the Toddler:
"I'm Sorry I Snapped at You for Licking a Stranger" sticker book

To the Stranger:
"She Licked You Because She Likes You: I hope You Don't Get the Stomach Flu" gift basket

To Myself:
"I'm Sorry You Have to Wait Just a Little Longer for Lunch Because the Baby Had a Blowout and the Toddler is Protesting Nap: Just Reheat it One More Time" wine glass

I admit a couple of these are sorrynotsorry apologies, but mostly I do feel bad that I just can't get it together and keep the world healthy and basically I'm just thankful that people generally give me a break and find my child's vocal improvisations endearing.  So next I'll think of THANK YOU presents and I'll try not to make them too snarky....

To the Target Checkout Lady:
"Thank You for Giving My Child a Sticker Even Though I Am Not Sure She Met All the Requirements for Deserving One" tote bag



Thursday, March 30, 2017

Day Dream and Night Terror

Day Dream: wakes up smiling, even when his sister has woken him up.

Night Terror:  Hits his wall and begins crying and rage babbling.

Day Dream: Eats solid foods for breakfast while laughing at his sister and Daddy.

Night Terror: stays asleep for a long stretch which starts at 6pm and ends when I'm juuuuuust fallllling asleeeeeeeeeeep.

Day Dream: plays independently in his playpen. Hits developmental milestones for gross motor.

Night Terror: "Is he STILL not sleeping through the night?" as if I have failed somehow even though my first born TOTALLY SLEPT.

Day Dream: Takes two solid naps a day. Can be put to bed awake and will play until he falls asleep.

Night Terror: 2:30 am. The moaning begins.

Day Dream: Can go to restaurants and loud shopping malls without incident. Smiles at older women, evoking sympathy and platitudes. "Enjoy him.  It goes so fast!"

Night Terror: 2:45. still crying. Daddy attempts to soothe.  JUST PISSES HIM OFF.

Day Dream: Feeds himself off his tray, sensually licking his fingers.  Is not picky like SOME PEOPLE I KNOW (Looking at you, husband and toddler). Avocados are allowed back into the house.

Night Terror: 3am. I go in. HE'S WICKED PISSED. WRITHES, SCREAMS, RIPS AT MY CLOTHES.

Day Dream: Laughs and plays while I read to his sister. Happy to observe her antics. Is forgiving of her when she loves him too fiercely.

Night Terror: Dying of starvation, he pulls at my shirt until I relent. 80th percentile baby is not actually needing to eat.  I hear the pediatrician's disappointed rebuke as I erase any sleep training with each let down.

Day Dream: Gives me open mouth kisses and squeals with delight as I sing to him and change him into his PJs.

Night Terror: Husband echos the pediatrician's mansplaining, that if only I were strong enough, I could sleep train this baby. But my feminine resolve is TOO WEAK.

Day Dream: Nurses and begins to drift into drowsiness. He complains a bit when I drop him off, but does not persist beyond when I shut the door.

Night Terror: Asleep in my arms, he does not want to let go.  Sweet, sweet baby, all he wants is me. His darling loneliness manipulates me into holding him just one more minute. I plop him down clumsily, drunk with sleep deprivation, and shuffle back to bed, flopping down on the mattress, willing myself to fall back into deep sleep because...

Only two more hours until the toddler wakes up...


Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Why I Wear Leggings as Pants



1.      I have no pants. 
All my pants seem to fit wrong.  Too big too small to low too high to much crotch too much leg.  They are never right. 

2.      No one lets me buy new pants
I just now tried to buy pants and I don’t know what it is about Nordstrom Rack, but my kids HATE the dressing rooms there and have had some epic crying jags.  This time it was the boy baby and I picked him up finally, thinking he was hungry but he just looked at me in the mirror and smiled so BIG as if to say, “Mom I love you just the way you are…in your ratty, decade-old underwear and nursing sleep bra.  I love your stress-sweat aroma and your fogged up glasses (from embarrassment).  We are bessssst friiiiiends. Never let me go.”

3.      Deep squats
All I do is bend down and pick things and people up.  I don’t need my butt slipping out.  I need something that works with me. 

4.      I could exercise at any moment
You never know.  It could happen now.  Or now.  Or now.  Or later.  Or never. 

5.      My life is casual
I’m not rushing into formal meetings.  I’m not teaching a seminar.  I’m wiping people’s body parts and going to kids’ music classes. 

6.     I can buy them online
Unlike real pants which require a dressing room debacle in order to determine that they don’t look good, leggings look pretty much the same on everyone.  Tight. 

7.      I can sleep in them
If I slept.

8.      One compound word:
Moisture-wicking.  For all the moist things that touch me with their moist little fingers and moist mouths. 

9.      Black is slimming.
So I’m told.  Or at least hides stains like when I lift the stroller into my car in the rain and hit myself in the leg with the muddy tire. 

10.   Shaddup I want to be comfy gaddammmmit.
I’m already holding a twenty pound lump of open mouth baby kisses in one hand and wiping a newly-potty trained toddler with the other while deep squatting and covered in mysterious moisture while sleep-deprived at a Nordstrom Rack.  I can AT LEAST be comfortable when I do it.