The Cranky Mommy Waddle

My son just turned two.

TWO.

He’s active.

He’s kinda like a time bomb, actually, and if I don’t get him outside burning off steam, he’s going to explode yucky kid goo all over the walls of my house.

And so we walk to the park.

Well, I waddle.

I can’t move very fast anymore.  Moving hurts me.  And while it’s great that there are several parks within a few blocks of my house, my kid still insists on running away from me, often into the street.

Jesus ouch goes my fast waddle.

I’m told this is a common problem (the running into the street…but I guess also the waddle.  but I was originally referring only to the running).  So why can’t parents with brains design human parks like they design dog parks?  Toddlers and dogs ain’t that much different, folks.  Fence them in.  Mommy’s tired of running.  And by running I mean waddle-shuffling.

And another thing.  Plant some damn trees.  I know this is Oregon, but occasionally we have this thing called sunlight.

I have delicate skin that’s constantly being sucked dry by my greedy fetus.  And my pregnant body is already 1002 degrees.  Mama needs the shade.

And while you’re at it, add in a little Starbucks booth.  It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just big enough for a sexy college dropout barista and that whoosh-whoosh machine that makes the foam.

Cuz sleep is getting harder to come by and we all know this is only going to get worse.  I need to stay just conscious enough while I’m resting my eyes in the shade so that I can take my dog-child back home after he’s burned off a sufficient amount of evil.

See you tomorrow, fellow park-goers.

 

Camping with a Toddler

We love to camp.

I grew up camping.  I was a Girl Scout for 11 years and then a camp counselor.  After that, my boyfriend, now husband (whom I met whilst camp counseling) got me hooked on backpacking.

I developed that love-hate relationship with it, where while I’m hiking up the hill in 1354627 degree heat, I just want to die…but once I get to the top, it’s all worth it.  Survival.  Independence.  Self-reliance.  All that good stuff that we are so excited to pass on to our kid.

We realized we hadn’t been camping in 4 years, and since I’m pregnant with #2, we needed to get in a trip RIGHT NOW before I am too big and before we have a screaming baby to take care of.

The short version of this story: camping was fucking hard.

Before going, I had read several articles about how camping with kids was so doable, you guys!  Just get out there and do it!

And, like a sucker, I was like, YEAH!  Let’s do this!  What could go wrong?!

The hardest part was trying to keep some kind of normal sleep schedule for my almost 2 year old.  He barely napped in the car on the way there.  Strike one.

We went out for dinner so we could hurry to the campsite and set up with enough time to put the kid to bed at a reasonable hour.  Now, we don’t co-sleep and we put our kid to bed while he’s still wide awake, so it’s his job to self-soothe himself to sleep.  I originally worried that there was no way we’d be able to get a pack n play into our tent, because I didn’t see how our thrashy sleeper would get any sleep (let alone US get any sleep) lying on an open mattress next to us.  Thank goodness our hand-me-down 5 person tent was plenty big enough to fit the pack n play next to a full sized blow up mattress for my pregnant hips.  It was a good start.

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Our sleep setup

So we get him to bed, and he’s super distracted (understandable) and it takes him a while to get to bed, but he does, and without crying.  When we go in the tent to sleep, I can smell that he’s poopy (my son, not my husband).  We decided to let him sleep with the risk that the poopy might give him a rash.

It was a horrible night.  I couldn’t sleep and my son couldn’t sleep.  Like, at all.  I woke up several times to my son standing in the pnp, leaning over me, whispering Mama.  Creepy as all hell.  Go the eff to sleep, kid.

He woke up upset at 6am, when he normally sleeps til 8 or 9, sometimes even later.  I got up to change his poopy (which had leaked all over everything. perfect.) which made him scream and he wouldn’t stop…..and we woke up the entire camp and FELT HORRIBLE.

Breakfast was tough, he didn’t want to eat, he wanted to run away into the road.  I was exhausted and cranky and pregnant.

To make matters worse, we had to break down camp completely because we had to switch to a new campsite for the second night.  Ugh.  We seriously considered just going home.

But I’m glad we didn’t.

Breakfast and cleanup and breaking down camp took forever because one of us had to do all the work while the other made sure Cranky McDidn’t Sleep stayed alive.  We managed to pack a lunch, get the hell outta there, and went to the beach (a very short drive away).  Dylan perked up, ate, ran through the freezing ankle-deep water.  We all had fun.  We saw a 100 year old shipwreck!

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Then we got to the second campsite and set everything up with enough time for Dylan to actually get a nap in before dinner.  He had to cry himself to sleep in order to do it, but he just needed to fuck-ing sleeeeeeeeeeep.

Unfortunately, he woke for dinner sooper cranky and crying and wanting to run out into the road, again.  It was incredibly frustrating and scary.  Everything during camping is hard to do anyway – cooking, washing dishes, set up, clean up – and it went even slower because one of us had to constantly be following Dylan around.  I now totally understand why parents put their kids in leashes.  Sign me up.

Thank goodness we had the genius forethought to plan hotdogs for dinner, because Dylan ate like a champ and I kid you not – halfway through the meal, his cranky whines stopped and he looked up at me and said, very calmly, Hi.  In response, I said, “Welcome back!”  And he was back, just like that.  My sweet, lovable, obedient little boy.  We went for a walk around the campground and he had his first s’more (loooved it) and we put him to bed and everything was glorious.  That night I slept, he slept, we all SLEPT.  And Dylan woke at his normal time, smiling and giggling like the horror that was yesterday never happened.

We had oatmeal and packed up and saw a cool fort and drove home and it was a very lovely day.  No one tried to run out into the road!

So.  Overall, it was a success.  A hard-fought success.

A few pointers for those still brave enough to attempt:

  1. Bring extra bedding.  Our leaky poopy experience taught us the hard way.
  2. Plan simple meals.  This one saved us.  Ain’t nobody got time for fancy meals when everything takes ten times as long and you have a hungry, cranky kid running into the road.
  3. Pack early.  With kids, you have to bring a lot of extra shit.  We left later than we wanted because we were scrambling to get everything and to make sure it all fit in the car.
  4. Reserve your campsite early.  The reason we had to switch campsites was because no one campsite was open two nights in a row because we waited so long to book.  Apparently people in Oregon loves them some camping.
  5. Be prepared to leave early if you need to.  Because every well-intentioned plan needs a backup.  Or an escape route.

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I’m very glad we went.  I’m glad we didn’t come home early.

And I don’t plan to do this again any time soon.

What to Expect When You’re Exhausted

I’m going to need some seriously awesome suggestions for family Halloween costumes, you guys.

Cuz my seriously knocked-up self is going to be pretty huge by then, so I gotta take full advantage of this costume-wearing opportunity.

Yup, you heard me.  I’m preggers again and it hardly feels real.

Well, so far it just feels exhausting and I doubt that will change for a very, very long time.  I wish I could go back to my pregnant-for-the-first-time-self and tell her how easy she had it.  She could rest and nap whenever she wanted.  She could eat whenever she wanted.  She could watch whatever she wanted on TV, whenever.  And she didn’t have a demanding, energetic toddler to waddle after.  Ugh, this is hard.

And the scary thing is, I only see it getting harder.  How do SAHMs take care of a toddler and a newborn?  I don’t see how it’s possible, and I have no idea how I’m going to do it.

I worry about my mental health.  It’ll be winter, it’ll be cold and rainy.  I’m not going to want to go anywhere, and I’ll feel alone.

I have hope in knowing that this phase will be temporary.  That I got through it before, and I’ll get through it again.  That I have some good mommy instincts and that I have some great tools and experience under my belt that I didn’t have the first time.  That the kids will grow and change and gradually become more independent from me.  And at the same time, I don’t want to already be wishing away all the cuddly newborn snuggle time.

So there you have it- exciting and terrifying all intertwined.

But seriously – ideas for Halloween???

 

My Little Yeah Man

Some phases you never expect.

I expected that my kid would go through a hitting phase, a running-away-from-me phase, a picky eater phase…you know, the normal stuff.

And I fully expect my kid to, someday in the near future, figure out how fabulous the word “no” is.

But today isn’t that day.

Lately, my kid has been saying “yeah” to everything, and it’s the flippin cutest phase ever.

“Hey Dylan, do you want to go to the park?” (It’s pouring rain outside)

“Yeah.”

“Dudeman, do you want more veggies?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to take a dump in Mother Maggie’s shoes?” (Google it.  Better yet- YouTube it.)

“Yeah!”

He also agrees with many statements I make throughout the day.

“Man, you made quite a mess.”   Yeah.

“Boy, you’re cute!”  Yeah!

Sigh.  I love you, buddy.

Some phases you can’t wait for them to be over, but this one, this one I am very thankful for.  Especially since a part of me is bracing for the “no” phase that most likely is yet to come.

And it’s not only that my kid is particularly agreeable most of the time.  He’s also friggin’ polite and I have no idea where it came from.  Seriously, we’ve taught him here and there to either say or sign “please” and “thank you” (he’ll only sign “please” and he’ll do a combo of signing “thank you” and/or saying “da-gu!” *melt my heart*), but he spontaneously says da-gu, like, all the time. And when he asks for something and we hesitate to say yes for whatever reason, he’ll often follow up with an adorably placed “please” sign and an expectant smile.  We’re in big trouble.

One time, he thanked me for changing his diaper.  I cried.  It’s so charming that it’s scary.  He could ask for a flame thrower, sign please and say da-gu and I’d hand one right over without a second thought.  Sure, my love.  Whatever you want!

So forgive me for gushing about my baby.  He’s not perfect, and I know phases are temporary, which is partly why I think I am drawn to blog about this particular phase.  I want to remember this one.  I want to remember how, for a few months (maybe longer??? please??), my kid acted like a charming angel some of the time.

Da-gu for this phase, little man.

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Down with the Sickness

The hubs and I are sick.

And, man, it sucks.

Being sick on a regular day sucks, but it sucks harder when you’re a parent.  And even harder when both parents are sick at the same time.  It’s the suckiest.

Both of us have been coughing and sneezing and hacking and gagging that my toddler thinks this is a new game.  Even though he’s still healthy (I have no idea how he hasn’t gotten our viral plague as of yet), he’s started fake coughing because he thinks it’s now the cool thing to do.  If this goes on much longer, we’ll have given our son some sort of complex.

We’ve been cooped up for several days now, and I’m not sure how much longer we can hold out.  Our produce is almost gone, we’ve dipped into my NyQuil reserves (this is not a joke), and we might be sick of each other.

As a SAHM and an introvert who is prone to self-isolation, the social commitments I make for my son and I each week are crucial to my sanity, and when one of us is sick, we can’t go talk to the other humans.  And that makes mommy something-something.  So the only silver lining is that, this week, my husband is home sick too.  WOO!  PLAGUE PARTY!!  We can sneeze the Overture of 1812 better than Ferris Bueller’s keyboard.  Seriously, it has been nice to have him home with us, because at least I don’t have to sick-parent a well-kid all by me onesie.

However, this situation has also given way to arguments over who is sicker, and thus who gets a free pass from parenting the not-sick, full-energy child.  My partner may or may not have said that he’s so sick that he’s not at work and deserves a break.  And I may or may not have said that I AM STILL AT WORK EVEN THOUGH I AM SICK AND I DESERVE TO POOP ALONE.  And then we agreed to disagree after the argument devolved into a mutual coughing fit.

In related illness news: I discovered that I can now hit Adele’s sexy, sexy low notes. I’d better get this down in the studio before my immune system decides to wake the fuck up.  Also, after visually confirming that my voice wasn’t coming from a would-be creepy male kidnapper, the hubs told me that I should start a late night sexy-talk line (that’s what they’re called, right?) and use the alias Bernice in order to earn a little extra cash.  You know, for our kid’s college fund.  Or so I can buy some more NyQuil.

Glowsticks and Pacifiers

So, for Christmas, Brian and I were given a fabulous sound system for our living room TV setup.  We’re very excited about it.

Picture us with our toddler having our nightly pants-off dance-off in the living room, this time with better quality music.

Begin scene.

Brian: (breathless) Man, it’s so great to have some bass in here!

Me: (equally breathless) …My butt has always been this big.  And you’re welcome.

B: …

M:  (seriously) Yes, I know!  The sound quality is great!  We should share this with the world!

B: You want me to turn it up?

M: No…we should do one better.  We should throw a rave!!!!!!

B: (doing the running man) We totally should!  We have those glowsticks left over from Halloween!

M: (doing the mashed potato) …AND WE HAVE PACIFIERS!!

My kid: (flailing wildly)  YAAAAAA-YAAAAAAAA!!!!!

M:  See?!  Dylan thinks this is a rad idea and will have no trouble sharing his pacis.

B:  But what can we offer our guests in terms of herbal refreshment?

M:  Ummm…I still have a bottle of max-strength ibuprofen left over from delivering Dylan!  Sure to give a medium-sized person some moderate anti-inflammatory action!

B:  (doing the sprinkler) Cat tranquilizers!

M:  (doing the roger rabbit) From our move up here!  YEEEESSSS!  Damn cat wouldn’t eat them, so it’s her loss!!  And speaking of loss, everyone will have to surrender their pants at the door, in keeping with tradition.

B:  We can throw in some Children’s Tylenol for good measure.  I think we have the makings for a great party.

M:  Not great.  THE GREATEST.

Dylan:  (still flailing) YAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

M:  I’ll have my assistant draw up some plans in the morning.


Who wants to come to our rave, y’all?!?!

50 Happy Things for 2015: Bloggers Unite in Flood of Gratitude

We are flooding the interwebs with positivity and gratitude today, Psychos!  After reading this, I hope you feel inspired to do the same.

I’m about to start a timer for 10 minutes (with a 2 minute grace period in case I am in the middle of an amazing thought when the first buzzer sounds) to list 50 things I am thankful for.  Let’s see how I do.

Ready, set, GO!

  1. My cute, sweet son.  He brings me joy.
  2. My husband.  He supports me unlike any other.
  3. My health, my health, my health.
  4. That we have a cozy roof over our heads this winter season.
  5. My education.
  6. Cookies.  My mom just sent my favorite kind in the mail!
  7. My mom!
  8. The rest of my family of origin.
  9. Books.  They take me to another place when I feel crappy in the place where I’m at.
  10. Movies, especially gooey Christmas ones at the moment.  Just watched Love Actually…squee!
  11. Socks.  My feet are always cold.
  12. Modern medicine.  Because illness sucks.
  13. My ability to learn new things.
  14. My husband’s patience with me…because being a SAHM is hard, and too often I take my frustrations out on him.
  15. Presents!
  16. String cheese.  Well, all kinds of cheese for that matter.
  17. Friends, especially the kind who tell you that you’re just as messed up as everyone else.
  18. My cat, even though she barfs on the floor.
  19. Jokes and humor and laughing.  Because I’d die otherwise.
  20. Coffee.  Like, good coffee.  Not coffee I make myself.
  21. (shit, I am halfway through my time limit!) Common sense people.  Like, non-cray peeps.
  22. Sunny days!  MY GOD, THE SUN!
  23. Swear words.  They are always funny.  Fuck.
  24. Having the means to travel.  Going to new places renews me.
  25. Cutting down our own Christmas tree, and how it smells.
  26. Ice cream. (How did I not write this yet?!)
  27. Moisturizer.
  28. Chapstick.
  29. Clean water coming out of the tap.
  30. Living in America.
  31. Indoor plumbing.
  32. Cereal!  I eat it everyday.
  33. Orgasms.
  34. The fact that I got through school before the time of social media.
  35. People who go out of their way to be kind.
  36. The Daily Show.
  37. Music that makes me wanna sing and dance – like Bruno Mars.
  38. Having dance parties with my son.
  39. Making my son laugh.
  40. A warm, comfy bed.
  41. (Ok, so my 10 minutes just ran out….time to start the 2 minute grace period.) Farts.  They be funny.
  42. Old people.
  43. Blankets.
  44. Cherry coke.
  45. Brownies.
  46. Vivid dreams.
  47. Peace.
  48. Being privileged enough so I am able to help others.
  49. Grapes.
  50. Frosting.  (Whew!)

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NOW YOU! – What are you thankful for?

If you’d like to join in, here’s how it works: set a timer for 10 minutes; timing this is critical. Once you start the timer, start your list. The goal is to write 50 things that made you happy in 2015, or 50 thing that you feel grateful for. The idea is to not think too hard; write what comes to mind in the time allotted. When the timer’s done, stop writing. If you haven’t written 50 things, that’s ok. If you have more than 50 things and still have time, keep writing; you can’t feel too happy or too grateful! When I finished my list, I took a few extra minutes to add links and photos.
To join the bloggers who have come together for this project: 1) Write your post and publish it (please copy and paste the instructions from this post, into yours) 2) Click on the blue frog at the bottom of this post. 3) That will take you to another window, where you can past the URL to your post. 4) Follow the prompts, and your post will be added to the Blog Party List.
Please note that only blog posts that include a list of 50 (or an attempt to write 50) things that made you feel Happy or 50 things that you are Grateful for, will be included. Please don’t add a link to a post that isn’t part of this exercise.

What My Christmas List Says About Me

This year, I had trouble coming up with things to put on my Christmas list.  This is because I have a one-year-old and I live in a new house that is largely empty, which means I either want crap for my kid that I am too cheap to buy myself, or I want big-ticket items like sofas and wall-to-wall trampolines.

So what did I end up asking for?  I can’t believe I am about to tell you.

  1. Money for a mattress

Yup, I have become that person.  The one who asks for money.  It’s just that we’re trying to save up to furnish our home and saving is hard.  And our current mattress is decidedly not.  I’m tired of waking up with a hurtee back.

What this says about me:  I’m old and cranky.

2. A dustbuster

Oh dear.  I actually cringed when I saw my fingers typing the letters that make up that word.  But…I need something smaller than my hugeass vacuum to suck up the 763728294 messes that my kid and cat and husband make everyday.  I can’t drag out my vacuum because my back hurts from our damn old mattress and I’m lazy.

What this says about me:  I have become my mother.

3. Infinity scarf with pocket

So, I saw these on The View (maybe I should stop typing right there) and I thought they looked cute and practical!

What this says about me:  I am the caricature of a SAHM.

4. An electric toothbrush

I have been meaning to get one of these for myself, because I do the Type A thing where I brush super hard and I need to not do that.  But then I looked, and these things are fucking expensive.  And Christmas is right around the corner!  On the list it goes.

(Fun fact: My family exchanged lists, and I saw that my dad had the exact same item on his list.  And then I swear I could hear my brother roll his eyes all the way in California.)

What this says about me:  I am cheap.  I have also become my father, apparently.


 

And this, my Psychos, is why alcohol flows freely during the most wonderful time of the year, to cover up the shame.

What embarrassing things do you have on your list?!

Throwing Out is Hard to Do

While I’ve been back in my childhood home, I’ve been going through boxes of my old stuff in an effort to reduce clutter in my life. 

One issue is that I am a sentimental person, and even as a kid, I kept everything. Ticket stubs, brochures, every paper I wrote, every exam I took…I saved it all. I wish I could go back and tell my younger self to let go of stuff, because it’s making it harder for me to get rid of it now. 

I go through an inner struggle with many items I come across. Do I need this?  Do I have space for this? Will I miss this? Oh, but it’s evidence of my hard work and/or good times!

Gah. 

Some things are easier to throw out than others. Math exams? Gone. Old birthday cards? Trashed. But some things are just too good to go. 

  

This freaking awesome life-sized cardboard cutout was given to me by my college boyfriend and I can’t let it go. It has nothing to do with who gave it to me, it’s just a really bitchin’ thing to have on hand. 

Legolas was there at my college graduation party, proudly displaying my cap and gown. He’s watched over me sleeping all those years. He valiantly posed for countless drunken selfies with my roommates and me before selfie was even a word. He’s been more loyal than most partners. And damnit, even though he has no real use, he’s not going anywhere. 

  
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Mystery Guest Post

Today, we have a very important guest blogger here at Psychobabble who needs no introduction. 

Yes, it’s NaBloPoMo, but I’m on vacation and I’m tired.  Give me a break. (Who decided to make NBPM during the holiday season, anyway? Someone who hated quality family time, that’s who.)

Without further ado:

Kfsdjkkggxb3567789 bhfdhjjvn&);:?&@&&,..,,…,,??!’c

This post was brought to you by the cutest 15 month old I know. 

You’re welcome, blogosphere. 

 

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