Sunday, October 24, 2010

Motherhood - Only The Strong Survive

I wrote this quite a while ago..........


(Here I go again.  For the 4th time)
Here are a few things I want to say about Motherhood.


1.  I do not want to be urinated, defecated, snotted, vomitted, spit or farted on.  It's a thing I have about not wanting DISGUSTING touching me.  So why can't they all aim the other way?


2.  Sleep.  Sleep is meant to be done in consecutive hours and until you are rested.  I would like to engage in this activity.  I sleep in 1.5 hour increments.  Sleep is imperative to my functionability, ability to get through the day, and overall mood and demeanor.  Want me to be nicer?  Let me sleep.  For at least 5 hours.  Please?  Also, pee or vomit in your own bed.  Why?  Because it is easier to change your sheets.  Toddler bed/crib mattress vs. Queen sized bed with memory foam mattress pad at 3 am?  I'll pick the little ones please.


3.  I don't want to use the toilet to an audience.  When I pee - picture it - I have to pee, wipe while keeping the tp away from the baby then stand up, flush and pull my pants up all simultaneously then quickly land a foot on top of the toilet to keep baby hands out of the pot.  Also, wait to ask me life's important questions until I am out of the bathroom.  Don't sit outside of the door asking the following:  What am I doing, when am I going to be done, can I change the channel, can you watch a movie, can you have a snack, where the remote is, where your shoes are, or tell me that you have to pee.  We have 2 bathrooms - utilize that!


4.  Food.  Your food belongs in your mouth.  Where food does NOT belong:  In your brothers hair, on the floor, in the carpet, in the bathroom, in the basket of clean laundry, in the printer, on the computer, on the tv, behind or underneath the furniture, in or on the couch cushions, in your bedroom, on the stairs or in the hallway.  Here are a list of things that are not food products for your eating pleasure:  Change, band aids, baby wipes, pens, pencils, markers, my contact case, my glasses, eye drops, anything in my make-up bag, toilet paper, anything that you have in your toy box and cat food. 


5.  I am not a mind read, code talker, translator or Steven Hawking.  I cannot understand what you are saying mid squelch.  Take 5 then tell me what atrocity your brother committed.  Breathe before you try to explain what toy you just stepped on that I have asked you to pick up 100 times already.  Calm down.  I'd have better luck deciphering Lassie's bark then what a child is saying while screaming.


6.  List of things that your brother is not:  Invisible, invincible, immortal, a battering ram, a trampoline, a gun to shoot any substance or object, a slinky, a gymnast, Superman, Freddy Kreuger, balance beam, home gym, remote control, robot, animals of any sort, target practice, punching bag or object of revenge. 


7.  I am not really Wonder Woman. Seriously, I have only one head, heart and brain.  Freakishly I was born deformed for motherhood.  I came with only 2 arms, 2 legs, 2 ears and 1 body.  I have to make due with what God gave me.  Unlike Ben's mom I can't be in two places at once, part the Red Sea or pull baked goods from any of my orafices.  You'll have to survive on what I am.  Sorry. 


8.  Showering is my 10 minutes alone.  Keep it that way.  Crying outside of the bathroom door is annoying.  Stop it.  Don't bother me unless the house is on fire.  At least I will have the water to douse the fire with.  Go annoy your father.  he doesn't get a fraction of it that I do.  Go punish him for a few minutes.


9.  The television gets more than Disney, Noggin, Cartoon Network and the Sci Fi Channel.  It will not explode if your mother takes control of the remote.


10.  Most of all, I love my kids more than anything in the world.  I wouldn't trade them for anything.  Even when they go on haircut strikes, wear clothes that not only don't match but don't even fit, tell me that I can't dance or sing and to be normal in front of their friends, explain to teachers that they are going to need years of therapy after being raised by us, pull my hair, tell me they hate me and commit the above offenses repeatedly and without remorse.  They are still my babies and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Til Death Do Us Part - or infidelity

I'm 32.  I have 4 children - 3 boys and a girl.  I've been with my husband for 11 years.  And 2 weeks ago - he sent me divorce papers.  Apparently, I'm not as fun as a teenager.  Grown up life proved to be too much.  He cheated, I cheated, then he cheated again and hasn't stopped yet.  He left December 11, 2009.  The boys and I have been left to deal with the ups and downs, cleaning up the messes and get on with life.  So this is me - getting on with my life.  Reluctantly.

My sons - The Oldest (14), The Middle Son (7) and The Youngest Boy (3) have been my reasons for carrying on and have provided solace when I didn't think it was possible.  The 4 of us have formed this little tribe - unbreakable and delicate at the same time.  In August 2010 we welcomed Mini-Me- my daughter- into the world.  So go- do the math.  Yep - he left 8 days after the "+" sign.  But hey - we're not the first ones to go through this and we surely aren't the last.  Together we have faced some interesting and frustrating obstacles.  I don't know where I'd be without them. 

My friends have been there for me at all hours of the night.  Helping me analyze every text, call, email, visit and communication over the last 10 or so months.  Up to now I'd never been the type to cry.  Let alone cry uncontrollably.  Definetly not the type to cry uncontrollably on people.  Oh and never in public.  Boy how things change.  Used to be a time where I was always right.  My gut was never, ever wrong.  It's been an adjustment!  Not only is my gut wrong but I've been more wrong than I have ever thought possible. 

Anyway - my family, friends, therapist and even soon-to-be ex husband always said I should write.  It's always been my dream.  I don't want to pen the next Angela's Ashes or anything, nor do I want fame & fortune (at least not until the divorce is final, haha) - I just want to get it out.  Sometimes it's funny.  Sometimes it's angry.  Sometimes it's torn, confused, hurt, tearful or astounded.  It's always something.  Maybe somewhere someone else will find this in the vast internet and get some inspiration.