That baby pang

I'm super envious of people who are done having babes. Like done having them because they want to be done, not because they have  to be done due to other reasons, such as financial, illness, age, whatever. People who are legitimately done and want to be done and feel done. They rock. They suck. Whatever.

I feel like everyone I know is having babies this month. Perfect, beautiful, tiny babies. Something I will never have again. Something I mistakenly made the choice to never have again.

Yeah, I just wish I could be one of those people who were done because they truly felt done. But I’m not. And I’m going to have to accept that. Even though it sucks.

The things I learned but didn't really learn.

As I was walking my little girl to preschool this morning (post on preschool to come) I started thinking of nebulous clouds (I think there are such things). And then my mind wandered to nimbus clouds (I think those are real, or maybe something from Harry Potter). At that point I started thinking of volcanoes and sedentary rocks and indigenous trees and all those other things I “learned” in school, but didn’t really learn.

We were taught so much in school that we needed to know long enough to get an A on a test and then 2 weeks later would have looked at the same test as if we had never heard of such information in our lives.

And really, if we’re being honest, we hadn’t really. We weren’t learning the information, just memorizing it long enough to pass a test. And that’s all that was expected of us anyway.

It’s silly, in my opinion, to force kids to learn anything outside of reading, writing, and arithmetic. Everything else is simply an interest. Sure, I think kids should be encouraged to explore other subjects, and maybe even gently nudged towards those they wouldn’t so willingly delve into. But really, outside of reading, writing, and arithmetic, none of it is necessary.

I am sure this will come as a huge surprise, but since my 2^nd grade class where we learned about different clouds, not once have I had a need for to know the differences.  I’ve yet to need my chemistry information, or to utilize that biology dissecting project. No one has asked me about volcanoes. And, wait…..wait for it….I’ve not had to do a single bloody calculus problem since my final exam. Go figure.

And that’s all good, because although I got an A for all those classes, I have retained nada  about any of it.

You want to talk literature or proper grammar (which admittedly I don’t always use), history, travelling, foreign countries or human rights issues, I’m your girl. I’m a butt load of information when it comes to those things. Because they interest me, so I genuinely learned them (though most on my own time, not in a class).

Guess what my college degree is in. That’s right! History and International Studies with a focus on Human Rights. Surprisingly, though really not, I didn’t major or even use any of the crap I was forced to “learn.”

I do think reading, writing, and basic arithmetic are very important, whether you like them or not. Those are three things everyone uses daily, whether you like it or not. I use them as a stay at home mom, my husband uses them as an engineer, my little sister uses them as a college student, my older sister uses them as a 4^th grade teacher, and my step-sister uses them as a waitress. There is just no way around it. (And let’s face it, those are the only thing you are tested on for the SATs. Even they get that everything else just isn’t as important.)

But all that “extra” stuff? Nope. Honestly, what a complete waste of most of my childhood. I could have been playing, learning from the world around me and doing things that truly interest me (which also seem to be tools for learning). Instead I was stuck in a classroom for 7 hours a day doing meaningless busy work that have in no way contributed to me being a successful or well-rounded individual.

I’ve learned so much in my life thus far, and I’m learning so much more each day. But it’s really sad all the things I learned that I didn’t really learn.

I just hope I can give my kids something better. Sure, many are probably rolling their eyes thinking it’s a hippy-free-love way of thinking, but if you think about it; really stop and think about it, you know I’m probably onto something here.

"I fear a world run by adults who were never spanked as children." Really!?

So there is this little picture-thing on facebook (what the heck are they called??) going around that says something like, “I fear a world run by adults who were never spanked as children.”

Really? I mean, really?

What a thing to fear.

Some of the best people I know were never hit as children. They are the most secure, academically and financially (career) best off. They have the least anxiety and depression issues. But okay.

Some of the wealthiest countries, such as Sweden, also have the lowest rates of crime, poverty, and emotional disorders. Guess what. It’s illegal to spank your child there. Coincidence? I think not.

And really, it makes sense.  I mean, if an adult were to hit another adult it is called assault. That is punishable by fine and/or jail time. That’s pretty serious.  If a child hits another child they are immediately reprimanded and oftentimes punished because as parents, we feel it necessary to teach our children not to hit since it is mean. And God forbid a child hit an adult. Just the idea of it is crazy. It’s an absolutely intolerable act.

And yet when a parent hits a child, a person a fraction of their size, a person most susceptible to the damages of inconsistencies, we get a pat on the back and commended for “being a parent.” Definitely showed that kid who is boss.

If we are supposed to teach our children that hitting is wrong, then what in the world is hitting them teaching? It’s only okay to hit if you’re bigger? It’s only okay to hit if you don’t like what the other person has done? Hm…that’s pretty inconsistent to me.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not perfect. Not always consistent. I just think the whole idea of spanking is screwy from the start. I can accept that people get super frustrated and lose their shit. That’s honestly about the only time spanking makes “sense” to me. Still not right, but I get it.

What’s super twisted is when people say you should never spank out of anger. Wait until you’ve calmed down and are rational, then spank. WTF? What kind of rational human being thinks, “Oh, I should hit my kid. I’ve only got 20+ years on him and at least 100 lbs, I obviously cannot come up with a better solution to handle this situation than with physical violence.”  Terrific.

But really, regardless of my feelings toward the whole subject I really don’t care if someone actually does choose to spank their kid. I’m not going to lose any sleep over it and I’m not going to stop talking to you (but you may me after you read this) or being your friend. I do however, find a statement that you actually fear a world run by adults who were never spanked as kids to be a tad bit ridiculous. Okay, a whole lot ridiculous.

There are some much greater things in this world to fear. Rather the adult next to me was ever hit as a kid just doesn’t make my list. Or if the kid in my daughter’s preschool class gets smacked for hitting, that’s really not my business (unless it’s actual abuse).

So yeah, I have a lot of fears about the way the world is run and by whom it’s run…but how they were disciplined (or lack thereof) as kids, just isn’t one of my fears. Just saying.

Time for an "update"

J is constantly trying to get me to “update” my life.

“Your computer is too old,” he says. “We can get you a new one. Faster, more updated.”

“My computer works,” I tell him. “After it’s fallen out of a window a few times, we’ll talk.” (Some of you get that!)

“How about a new phone?” he asks. “At least a smart phone. We can start small.”

“My phone works,” I tell him. “Why would I mess up a good thing? I see how much trouble you have with yours. Mine is no trouble at all.”

“How about a kindle and you can condense your library and read on the go?” he suggests.

“How about not and we’ll pretend you never suggested it,” I reply.

It’s not that I’m against technology (though I may have not given in to CD’s until high school or owned an iPod until college…way after they’d been the “norm”). I just really hate screwing up a good thing. I don’t believe in fixing something that isn’t broken.

But if it’s broken – I say, okay! Let’s update. Let’s fix it. Let’s see what’s newer and better out there. But I’m not going to do it if I have something good and functioning.

Take my eyes for instance. I just “updated” them. They sucked. They were blurry and couldn’t even read the freaking alarm clock without contacts or glasses.

So, I was all for it. A super quick procedure later, and I can see. Like perfectly. Without glasses. Or contacts. And it’s amazing.

So sure, when my computer has seen better days (or fallen out of a window) we’ll talk about it. Until then, I’m not in the market to fix something that isn’t broken. Even if there is “newer and better” out there.

Maybe I’m set in my ways.

Maybe.

My little monster(s)

Miss H is at this amazing age. Sure, there are moments (if we are being honest, typically several in one day) when she drives me crazy, but really, she is just awesome. She is so funny and quirky and comes up with the best things. Constantly she has me laughing until I'm in tears, and she gets baby B going too. It's great.

Today she wanted to wear her ladybug Halloween costume. But shortly after putting it on, she decided she'd rather wear her brother's. She she wore a fuzzy blue, three-eyed monster costume that was a few sizes too small. But she didn't care.

Then she toted around two Build-a-Bears that she calls the names of her "god sisters" and repeatedly kept laughing to me, "I'm soooo crazy! I'm just so crazy, Momma!"

She cracks me up. She makes me smile. She makes me so happy to be a mom. And sometimes, because she is just so awesome, it feels a little surreal. Like, really, how'd I get something, someone (okay, two someones!) so amazing and awesome and simply perfect?

Yep, this is all mush. All rose-goggle mommy-love. All that inexplicable bliss that you have right after having a baby has suddenly re-surfaced the past few days - and I didn't even have to have a baby! I guess mega jet lag does it, too.

So yes, although she may drive me insane - Miss H is the best little monster a momma could ask for (and so is B!).

I'm not the kind of parent I thought I'd be

Alas, it’s true. I’m nothing like the parent I thought I’d be. Not even close. Not one single version of the parent I thought I’d be at any stage of my life.

Not even the version I’d like to be now.

Before I had kids I thought I’d be one of those crazy-strict parents. My kids would be picture-perfect. They’d sleep in their own bed from day one, they’d cry it out, they’d never throw a tantrum because they’d fear being spanked too much to do so. Crazy. Twisted. Extremely sad. But they say it’s hard to break from our parents, and I totally get that. Well, sort of. But honestly, I didn’t even know there was any other kind of parenting. Other than those freaks who let their kids run amuck, but that’s not really parenting, is it?

Then I got pregnant. The idea of ever yelling at my child or allowing her to cry – for any reason – made me want to hyperventilate. I couldn’t picture myself as any type of parent that could ever cause my child distress in any way, regardless of her behavior. The idea of hitting her repulsed me.

And when I had my sweet, first child, I thought that was how things would stay. I would never be cross with her, I’d never put her in time-out. I’d never be that “strict” parent my child feared.

I read a lot. I mean, a ton a lot. It was a good thing. It was a bad thing. A horrible, terrible, awful thing.

Pretty much any time I punish or bribe my children I feel like I’ve failed. Because maybe by participating in punitive parenting, I’m totally screwing them up. But then when I let them lay under the table at the restaurant, not bothering a soul, content and quiet, I feel like it’s wrong too because shouldn’t I be forcing them to sit up at the table and be perfect, quiet little people?

Blah.

We are in an information-overload world these days. There is so much stuff out there it’s overwhelming. And all of it is “scientifically backed up.” Whatever that means. I’m not a scientist.

But I am a momma.

And when I stop reading all this garbage or listening to unsolicited advice (the solicited advice is very welcomed!!!), I do a much better job. And I’m all around happier. And so are my kids.

So maybe I will bribe my 2.5 year old into the car seat and let her lay quietly under the table at a restaurant, and even threaten her with counting when the “need” arises “1…2…don’t make me get to 3…” (We’ve never gotten to 3, I don’t know what the heck happens if I get there…). We’ll use our “mad jar”, which is full of glitter and H has to play with on the steps while mommy has a break so she doesn’t lose her shit completely inappropriately. I will let a lot of things go because I don’t want a battle, but I will still force her say “please” and “thank you” even if that Blossom chick says I should just model it for her, never force it otherwise it isn’t authentic. Well, I’ve got news for you, Blossom, a lot of the time I don’t say “please” or “thank you” because it’s authentic to me, I say it for the person I’m saying it to. Because it’s polite. Because I have manners, even when I’m annoyed with the world. It’s the same reason I don’t punch stupid people in the face. I know better.

I’m certainly not the kind of parent I thought I’d be. Or even the kind of parent I want to be. I mean, honestly, I wish I could be a 100% non-punitive parent. But I just don’t know how to make that happen or work. I’ve tried to wrap my brain around it because I love the idea…just the reality of it doesn’t seem feasible no matter how much I read or try to believe it.

But that’s okay. Because regardless of it all, I know I’m a really kick-ass parent. And I feel confident about that. Every day. Even if I make mistakes. (And I make plenty of them, ask my daughter…ask her how many times momma has had to go back and say, “Whoa, I’m really sorry for…”). 

I’m a great mom, even if it’s not the mom I always want to be. Even if it’s not the mom I thought I’d be.

And in case no one has told you today, you’re a really fantastic parent, too! (Or you will be some day).

Why do my kids loathe sleep?

I freaking love sleep. Like to a T. I adore it.

I was that dork in college who was in bed by 10pm. For real.

My children, however, do not share this passion of mine. They loathe sleep. Hate it. Despise it.

It makes me want to cry. Or club baby seals. Or laugh at the melting glaciers, because then I feel a little better. I know. I'm sick. Twisted. But I'm okay with that. Whatever keeps me trekking, I say.

Three and half hours. That's how long J and I have been tag-teaming it. And yet both of my kids are still awake. Still on and off screaming. Still crying for whatever parent is not currently with them. Still hating the world of dreamland.

Whatever.

That's what kid's say, "Whatever." Because if they said "Fuck you" or "Fuck this" they'd probably get their mouths washed out with soap.

So I'm saying whatever. Whatever to sleep.

Because it hates me.

So I hate it.

Because that's the awesome 12-year-old mentality I have towards it right now.

Oh, and this is not due to children being jet-lagged. I wish I could blame it on that. That'd be awesome. Great. Fan-freaking-tastic. But I can't.

This is the norm.

I'm not advocating anyone sleep-train their bundle of sunshines. In fact, I'm pretty morally opposed to it. But I get it. I really do. I understand why people do that. They like their sleep. Like me.

Ah...sleep...

Whatever.