Purple People Eater

I cannot count how many attempts I've made at posting over the past few months, only to give up or find a different task that requires my immediate and undivided attention (you know, like saving Bee from choking on a Lego...or reminding Connor that wearing a helmet is definitely important while riding his scooter, but he might also want to consider real shoes and a shirt as well.  Road rash is a bitch).

Back to school is right around the corner.  With that in mind, I've found myself conflicted about Connor's last year in elementary school.  I feel myself desperately clinging to the memories of his first day of kindergarten and keeping up a constant stream of "I love you", "Do you want to hang out?", "What are you doing?", "Can I sit with you?", "I need a hug"...I'll admit, he's probably more than a little annoyed with my incessant chattiness and need for constant communication.

Connor has always been an old soul.  It still startles me at times--to have this boy (with big blue eyes who was just ninja-ing his way down the stairs) open his mouth and verbalize some of the most articulate thoughts I've ever been privileged enough to hear.

Case in point: I took Connor and Matthew school supply shopping.  Between plying Matthew with blueberry puffs (organic, okay?) so he'd refrain from launching his meltdown from a stage 2 to a full-blown 10 and chasing Connor around the store while he skateboarded with the cart, I was honestly about ready to walk right out the door.

In the middle of my 10 second meditation in the writing supply aisle, Connor found me.  I opened one eye, praying that he had found the last item on the list so we could wrap this party up.  Of course, this was not the case.  He HAD found the last item (and an additional three more that he NEEDED).  It was a 3-ring binder.  It was purple.  Bright purple.  Along with that, he had also decided he would swap out the traditional black and white composition notebooks for...purple composition notebooks.  I was frozen.  It seemed like hours passed by as Connor excitedly held up his newest acquisitions for me to admire.

Why wasn't I high-fiving him and throwing those bad boys in the cart?  Where was this trepidation coming from?  Why was I thinking of ANYTHING to distract Connor and instead swap out the purple binder for a blue (or green) binder?

I was paralyzed.  Frozen with fear because my beautiful, self-confident, brilliant and charming boy was choosing purple school supplies.  Here was this amazing child I have put blood, sweat, tears, laughter, hugs, prayers and songs into for ten years showing me (ME!  The parent!) and laying bare a shortcoming and ignorance of my own that I had not been aware of until this very moment.

Connor felt and saw my hesitation.  He asked me, "Mama?  Are these okay?".  The initial spark of excitement in his eyes faded into hesitation and his face was instead marked with a desire for approval. A desire his mom to tell him that it was okay.  

People say that when you are on death's door, your life flashes before your eyes--you see all the decisions you made, the people you love.  I definitely wasn't dying in Office Depot.  Instead, my eyes and heart were opened wider than I ever imagined.  I remembered applauding Connor for choosing to wear a full suit and tie for his Mother's Day Tea in first grade.  Clapping and taking pictures of him as a two year-old at soccer rolling around on the ball as the other kids lined up and ran through drills.  Thanking God every night that Connor is secure in himself enough to tow the moral line, even if it means alienating himself from his peers.

Connor then asked such an honest question that my heart broke as disappointment flooded my being...he said, "Mom--you don't believe in a gender color bias, right?".  Suddenly, my mind was clear.  Of course I don't believe in "gender color bias".  As a matter of fact, I rarely wear pink (or purple for that matter).  I don't cut Bee's hair and I'll admit--more than once, a stranger has commented on my "beautiful daughter" to which I say thank you and move on (I change the kid's diapers, I know he's a boy!).

I realized that my fear was that Connor would be ostracized and made fun of by his fellow classmates.  My hesitation didn't come from a fear that my son was choosing a damn purple binder, it came from the simple fact that I want to protect him from anything or anyone that could cause him pain or break his soul.  I also realized that Connor was completely OKAY with what he had chosen.  So, who was the real bully?  The peers that have yet to show their mean streak or ignorance?  Or the mom who is so afraid of being different?

My mind cleared.  I took the binder and notebooks from Connor and admired them.  I made sure that he was okay with what he had chosen.  And then, we checked out.  Just like that.  Connor happily helped bag his loot and load it into the car.  As we drove home, I tiled the rearview mirror to look at him.  I saw a boy that is growing into the most amazing young man.  Pride and love washed through my soul.  Connor is Connor--and always will be.  He marches to his own drum, stands strong in his choices and beliefs.  As a parent, I can't ask for anything more to find pride in.

As a pre-school teacher of Connor's once said, "To know Connor is to love Connor".  I couldn't say it better myself.  

   

Uh-Oh...Mommy's Sick. REALLY Sick.

I am not a good sick person.  Don't get me wrong, I am a hypochondriac through and through--but only with BIG things.  Like heart attacks.  Or appendicitis.  And possibly blood clots while being pregnant (yes, I have been to the ER for those afflictions, and yes, all were proven false).  So really, I only like to be sick when it's a trip-to-the-ER kind of thing.  Not when it's a cold/flu thing.  However, even given my best attempts at side-stepping all colds and flu the entire season, somehow a little something snuck through (I'm pretty positive I got it from either Target or the book fair at Connor's school--whenever I'm in those places, I literally see the place like you would under a microscope and all I see are GERMS, GERMS, GERMS...salmonella surprise, E.Coli, etc...).

This "sick" that has ravaged my system for over two weeks now could not be ignored any longer.  I tried negotiating with it.  I tried self-medicating it.  I even drank my own weight in coconut water because I have this ridiculous idea that coconut water can basically cure everything.  It didn't work.  Last Friday, Dylan had the "you are sick, you need to see a doctor" talk with me.  Of course I refused--and I adamantly insisted that I was FINE even though I was entertaining a fever that caused me to sweat through three outfits that day.  I'm talking sweat running down my face, my "moisture-wicking headband" (RIGHT) soaked through, breathing heavily because I just made a freaking SANDWICH, kind of fever.  I acquiesced and visited our local Urgent Care on Sunday and got...nothing.  They ran a strep test, negative.  They took blood to run a mono and CMV test but the results would take a few days.

Monday morning came and there was no denying that the fever was still in full force (and couldn't be brought down by much with copious amounts of ibuprofen or Tylenol).  I made an appointment to see my PCP the following day.  Trying to remember that visit is like piecing together a dream you had the night before--bits and pieces, so I was obviously delirious (see, this is where shit gets real people).  She put me on an antibiotic and then proceeded to take 6 VIALS of blood--she wanted to test for mono, CMV and other "autoimmune diseases".  Wait, what?  While I felt a little better that I had an antibiotic, I became even more anxious about what else could possibly be wrong (Google "autoimmune diseases" and just TRY not to freak out).

I filled the antibiotic, bought more ibuprofen (and yes, coconut water) and valiantly tried to rest for three days.  Dylan bowed out of a work trip to Texas so he could be home to help with the boys and the house.  Here's the thing...I'm not good at resting.  I was exhausted but my head was filled with rush hour traffic thoughts of what I needed to do or should be doing.  When I would lay down, I felt like my chest was tight and a heart attack was imminent (I KNEW that wasn't going to happen, so no worries, I didn't call 9-1-1 or anything).

So, while I've been failing as a patient this past week, Dylan has been excelling at his adopted role of Mr. Mom.  Bee napped consistently for Dylan, he ate and played and was generally happy as a clam.  Connor was more helpful than ever and loved that Dylan was home before and after school.  Now, Bee did have crusty food leftover on his face and clothes (which he would lick off at a later time) and he wasn't changed out of his jammies until sometimes the afternoon.  But guess what?  He survived!  And I noticed a new confidence about Dylan--it was like he was thinking, "Ben Affleck has nothing on me suckas!  I handle this with more fun, style AND all without a full-time nanny!!!" (I didn't mention the squash on the back of his shirt, the formula stains on his khakis or the fact that his socks didn't match, or the slightly-crazed look in his eyes around 5pm--after all, those just added to his allure).

My bloodwork still has not come back (which I'm trying to convince myself is a good thing, not that I've contracted some rare strain of malaria, typhoid fever, rubella...) and I'm on my third day of antibiotics.  Besides the full-frontal assault the Cipro is doing on my digestive system (which I'm counter-balancing with daily probiotics), I'm hopeful that I'll be feeling back to normal soon.  I miss singing silly songs to Bee, dancing with Connor to "Thrift Shop" and staying up late enough to watch a few shows with Dylan.

I'm really proud of my "boys"--they were great team players and wonderful support for one sick mommy.

Another Milestone For Bee...

Of course this happened on April Fool's Day--obviously, this child most definitely has a sense of humor.  We can now officially add a new milestone in Bee's baby book.  No, he didn't start walking.  He didn't speak an entire sentence.  He didn't write his first graphic novel and he most definitely did not make me a cup of coffee when he noticed mine was low.  He did something even more amazing.  He had his first public meltdown.  At Target.

Here are moments leading up to the fateful trip...Bee takes a (way too short for my liking) morning nap, in his crib.  He wakes up, get a dry bottom and a full bottle.  We set off for Target, which is only about five minutes away.  Once we get in the car and pull out of the garage, Bee poops.  My car begins to smell like a dumpster mixed with a high school boy's locker room.  The stench reaches all the way to the front.  Of course, we are then stopped for construction.  By this time, I'm gagging and my eyes are watering (WTF did I feed him last night?).  Bee is starting to whine.  Just as I contemplate putting the car in park and changing his diaper in the middle of stopped traffic, we get the go ahead to start driving.

Once we get to Target, I hustle Bee into the bathroom to drop the nuke off.  Target bathrooms are GROSS, but we were about to make it even worse.  I sent a silent prayer up that this particular diaper is staying at Target.  I contemplate using the bathroom myself, but decide I'm better off not wasting the time and get out of there (BAD IDEA--had I known what would happen in the next fifteen minutes, I would've emptied my bladder right then and there).

We head over the the baby section.  I grab a few things, then head over to the grocery section.  Here's where it gets confusing to me...up until we hit the main food section, Bee was fine.  Then all of a sudden, shit hit the fan (not literally, the kid was completely cleaned out from his earlier episode).  Full on arching the back, kicking the cart, smacking the cart and screaming.  I desperately look to see if his leg is stuck in the cart, but no...all limbs accounted for.  No bleeding, no bruises.  I look around to see if somebody pinched him without me noticing, nope.  I look under the cart (hey, you never know)...nothing.

I'm trying to find something to distract him as I untangle him from the shopping cart seat cover (never before has fabric with a belt attached felt like a freaking Rubik's cube!).  No dice, NOTHING is helping.  I'm now sprinting down the aisle while pushing the cart with one hand and carrying Bee over the other shoulder.  People are staring.  I'm sweating like a mothertrucker.  I feel like a wild animal running through a gauntlet of poachers.

When we get to the front of the store, I am faced with a gut-wrenching choice--do I pick the most important items from the cart, pay quickly and leave?  Or leave with nothing?  I choose to pick a few items and get in line.  I transfer Bee to under my arm, legs kicking and arms flailing and throw said items on the belt.

I have no clue how much I spent at Target.  I'm not even sure I got all the bags, let alone a receipt.  I DO know that no rent-a-cop chased me out of the store, so I feel pretty safe in assuming I didn't steal anything or leave anything important behind--except of course, my sanity.

Getting Bee into the car was another ordeal.  I may audition for Cirque de Soleil after all of the contorting I was forced into dealing with THAT--I was sweating profusely and breathing like I just ran the hurdles against a high school track team.  After securing him in the backseat, I threw the stroller in the trunk and slid into the front seat and turned the AC on full blast.  Partly because I WAS that hot, but the fans blowing on high and Justin Timberlake (yes, I said JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE!) playing on the stereo reduced the screaming in the peanut gallery to a somewhat tolerable level for the five minute drive home.

Here's where it gets really good--once we were inside our house, my little terror morphed into an angel.  I don't know why.  Perhaps Bee likes the way our house smells.  I have no clue.  And that is perhaps the most frustrating part of the whole afternoon.  The fact that I don't know what precipitated the meltdown means that I can't prevent it from happening again.  I can only imagine it was any number of things...

After our little dramatic shit show at Target, I thought the universe and it's April Fool's Day pranks were said and done.  But, of course not.  Since it was such a beautiful day, I put Bee in the stroller and we walk up to get Connor from school.  The minute we round the corner of the cul-de-sac, a bird made a deposit on the top of the stroller.  Thank goodness I had pulled the sunshade down--otherwise, the poop would've landed directly on Bee's beautiful head of hair.

April Fool's Day was very entertaining this year.  I'm glad we got the first public meltdown out of the way early.  After all, it gave me a very good glimpse into what I might be dealing with as Bee gets older.  I also think I read somewhere that a bird pooping on you (or something you own?) is actually a sign of good luck.  I'll go with that theory as my stroller sits in the garage while I mentally prepare to chisel the crap off later.

Never a dull moment.

Turns Out...I'm Not Perfect (And A Fun Quiz)

Folks, it's been a ROUGH 10 days.  This nap transitioning thing is killing me.  Emotionally, I'm spent.  Physically, I'm exhausted.  You don't really appreciate a baby's naps until they are basically G-O-N-E for over a week...and counting.

I'll be honest.  I haven't showered every day.  Some days I haven't brushed my teeth until a) Connor is almost home from school, or b) Dylan is on his way home from work--because I simply cannot be bothered by anything that requires additional thought or effort.  For those short 20 or 30 minutes that Bee will nap, I sit my ass on the couch.  Or floor.  Wherever I manage to land (or fall over).

I've been a moody bitch.  I feel like I'm losing my mind.  I have cried, yelled, sobbed...this period has reminded me of those first couple of months after Bee was born--everything is a blur and important things are forgotten because you are so damn tired and can't figure out how to make this little person happy again.  I feel guilty.  I feel guilty because my patience is waning, I feel like I haven't been able to give either one of my boys "quality time" because I'm always playing catch-up.  I feel guilty because last night I literally locked myself in the bathroom, sat on the floor, and cried.  And cried.  And looked at Facebook and played Words With Friends.  And all of that was after I sat in my car in a parking lot listening to Taylor Swift, texting one of my best friends and CRIED.  Good lord, I feel dehydrated from shedding all those tears.

This has been a lonely trek at times.  Thank GOD for my girlfriends (my nanny included in that list!).  They don't judge, they just listen.  Not one of them have made me feel bad about decisions I've made--instead, they offered words of encouragement, helpful tricks to try, and most importantly, two hands to give me a chance to refresh and refuel (or a a few hours of their company without kids--a movie, coffee at Starbucks, etc).  So THANK YOU.  Each and every one of you.  Whether you reached out via Facebook, this blog, email, text message, in person...THANK YOU.  

Are the naps getting easier or better?  Not really.  It's now become a waiting game of when Bee will finally decide he's ready for the challenge of being a good napper.  He is a special little guy and I love him with my entire soul.  Connor said it best right after Bee was born.  He told me, "Mama, it's like your heart now takes up your whole body" (yes, I just started crying again after typing that).  The faith and love that pours from children is so very special.  Unfettered.  My boys are my LIFE.  I may struggle at times, I will stumble, I will lose my patience and daydream about setting up shop in a hotel with a good book, bottle of wine and bags of Lush bath bombs.  However, my love remains consistent.  ALWAYS.  So to my lovely little Bee and my amazing best littlest friend Connor, Mommy loves you.  Both of you.  No matter what.  I will always be your champion, I will always support and love you--I will be here for you and love you with abandon.

I may not be perfect, but my love is perfectly real and perfectly simple.

And to end this post on a completely honest but hopefully fun note, here is a quiz I stole:
If you were caught cheating, would you fess up? Yes.

The last time you felt honestly broken? Last night, into this morning.
Are you craving something? Red Robin fries with honey mustard to dip them in. 
If you could have one thing right now what would it be? A fresh cup of coffee (or a fountain Diet Coke).
Would you rather have ten kids, or none? None, because I don't think I could be a good parent to 10!
What do you hear right now? Connor tapping on his laptop.
Is your bed against more than one of your walls? No, that would make me feel closed in.
What’s on your mind right now? All of the things I need to get done today.
Are you there for your friends? I hope so.  My friends are my family.
Last person to see you cry? My husband.
What do you do when you get nervous? Grind my teeth.
Be honest, do you like people in general? Most people, although I have a low tolerance for ignorance.
How old do you think you will be when you finally have kids? Already did-at 21 and 31.
Does anyone completely understand you? Absolutely not.  Not even me.
Do you have a reason to smile right now? Yes.
Has anyone told you they don’t ever wanna lose you? Yes.
Would you be happier if life had a rewind button? Yes.
Do you tell your mom or dad everything? No.
Does it matter to you if your boyfriend or girlfriend smokes? Yes.
Are you going to get hurt anytime soon by someone? Physically?  No.  Emotionally?  There's always some risk when you have lots of love in your life I suppose.
This time last year, can you remember who you loved? Yes.
Do you think more about the past, present, or future? Past and present.  Hindsight is 20/20 and I like to think about the past to (hopefully) not make the same mistakes in the here and now.
How many hours of sleep do you get a night? Completely depends.  It never honestly feels like enough!
Are you easy to get along with? Yes, until you hurt someone I love.  Then I am not very nice.
Do you hate the last girl you had a conversation with? Absolutely not.
What was the last drink that you put in your mouth? Coffee, 1/2 a waffle from Connor's plate.
What size bed do you have? Queen.
Do you start the water before you get in the shower or when you get in? Before!
Do you like the rain? Not at all.  That's why I hate Oregon most of the year.
Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? Maybe.
Have you ever done something you told yourself you wouldn’t do? Probably every single day.
Would people refer to you as a goodie goodie, bad news, or neither? I think I am both.
Who were you last in the car with, besides family? Myself--does that count?
What’s the last movie you saw in theaters and with who? I honestly don't remember, but probably with my husband.
Have you ever kissed someone who had a boyfriend/ girlfriend? Yes, a very long time ago.
Have you ever been hurt by someone you never thought would hurt you? Yes.
Your parents are out of town. Would you throw a massive party? Nope, they live 3000 miles away!  I'd have it at my house, but I hate the cleanup after.
Do you regret a past relationship? No.
Would you rather spend a Friday night at a concert or a crazy party? A concert.
Do you tend to fall for the same type of person over and over? Yes.  I have a type.
Have you made a joke about somebody that made them cry? God, I hope not.
Do you care too much about your appearance? Yes.  Way, way too much.
Are you a jealous person? Absolutely.
Have you bought any clothing items in the last week? No, buying clothes right now gives me hives.
Do you miss anyone? Yes.  Very, very much.
Last person who made you cry? Myself?  I tend to be REALLY hard on myself.
Does your ex piss you off? Doesn't piss me off, but the narcissism drives me nuts.
What are you doing tomorrow? Doctor's appointment.
Are you the type of person who has a new boyfriend/ girlfriend every week? I'm married and I don't have the time. :-)
Is there anyone you want to come see you? Yes, I miss my family.  Especially around holidays.
Have you ever been cheated on? Yes.
Ever given your all to someone who walked away? Yes.
Do you like cotton candy? No.
Who was the last person you had a serious conversation with? My husband.
Are you planning to get knocked up or knock someone up by age 17? LMAO, I'm 32 (but have been knocked up twice).
Do you have siblings? Yes, one.
Have you ever fallen asleep on someone? Yes.
How has the past week been for you? VERY TRYING.
Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to? No.
What’s on your mind right now? I hope I have enough time to shower today.
What were you doing at midnight last night? Trying to sleep.
What is your current mood? OK, just okay.
Who was the first person you talked to today? My husband before he went to get on a plane.
Will this week be a good one? I'm optimistic it'll end up that way.
Anything happen to you within the past month that made you really happy? I got to watch my oldest son perform in his talent show!
Who were you with last night? My boys and husband.
Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night? Kind of.
Next time you will kiss someone? Any given moment!  Both of my boys are with me today!
Who should start the kiss, the girl or the boy? Hmm...not sure on that one.
Do you have any plans for the weekend? Easter activities and hopefully enjoying some sunshine!

Status Update on "The Crib Napping Chronicles"

I don't even remember what day we are on in this journey of transitioning nap time for the Bee from the swing to the crib.  I'm kidding of course--I know we are exactly at day six.  I know this because a) I am a nutcase about keeping count of things and b) because I am a perfectionist and I'm pissed that we were only successful on one day.  Friday.  Day 5.

If you read my other post about this transition, you'll remember that I listed out a few new things I had learned about Bee over the first three days.  Now I can add one more trait to the list--the element of surprise.  Bee is using this new trait to his greatest advantage.

You see, the first four days were truly hit or miss with the naps.  We'd maybe get 30 minutes in the morning, or 45 minutes in the afternoon...Thursday he decided to completely forgo any napping at all--thank God I have an incredibly patient nanny who didn't seem to mind playing CEO (Chief Entertainment Officer) for a few hours while I tried (and failed) to locate my sanity somewhere outside of the prison that was also my home.

By Thursday evening, I thought Bee was finally giving in.  He was exhausted.  He had gone from taking (usually) two, two hour naps a day in addition to sleeping 11-12 hours at night one week to basically following the sleeping schedule of a prisoner in Guantanamo Bay the next.  By 6pm Thursday, his eyes were glassy, cheeks were pink, eyebrows were red, he cried through his dinner and was rubbing his eyes in the bath.  YES!  I thought, tomorrow will be the day that Bee finally gives in.

Guess what?  That little turd that I love so much did exactly that.  He slept for 90 minutes Friday morning and for two hours Friday afternoon.  I was walking, no prancing, around the whole day.  Texts were sent to all of my friends along with a photo of a smiling, well rested Bee.  I was gloating, full of confidence.  It took every mature bone in my body not to stick my tongue out and say, "Neiner, neiner, neiner" to my charming little Bee.

This is where the saying "never get too confident" comes into play.  Just as I was so happy and full of pride, Bee was planning his next move--he was already not one, but two steps ahead of me.  He had given me exactly what I wanted on Friday, two perfect naps.  He wanted me to get comfortable because his next move was coming up...

Day 6.  Today.  Morning nap was approximately 20 minutes.  No afternoon nap to speak of.  WTF?  I was so CONVINCED I had finally cracked the code.  Sadly, I was mistaken.  My little love nugget, who turned exactly 8 months today, played a new move--element of surprise.  Just when I got cocky, he reminded me exactly who he believes is REALLY in charge.

Unfortunately, I have no weapon of mass destruction to fight this element of surprise.  I have only my determination and desire to instill good napping habits in Bee.  It did not happen in the four days that some of the books suggested.  We have met some unexpected roadblocks (namely, poop time being right in the middle of nap time) along the way.  We'll get there--and I may need to accept that Bee may never be 100% on napping, or even 75% for that matter.  That will be a hard fact for me to digest (as I am a complete perfectionist, OCD and driven to complete and unarguable success) so I'm putting it out there...looking at it staring back from the screen at me and rolling it around in my head...I know the benefits to Bee to become a (semi) regular napper.  Perhaps a side benefit to this process is that I might accept success not at 100%/A+,but something closer to 70%/C average.

Day Three Of The "Crib Napping Chronicles"...

Perhaps I should instead title this post the "Kidnapping Chronicles"--because if someone showed up on my doorstep at this very moment and offered to take Bee...I'll be honest.  I'd probably give him up.  Not for FOREVER, just maybe a few days.  And if they could somehow get him to nap in a crib before they brought him home, I'd probably even pay them.  Real money--dolla, dolla bills y'all.

During my pregnancy with Bee, I often wondered what his personality would be like.  I mean, that's the most exciting thing to think about while pregnant, along with what (or who) they will look like... (okay, I also got very excited about Mexican food while pregnant and sometimes wondered if Bee would come out looking like a chicken taco and spitting up refried beans--he didn't, no worries).  Now I realize that I shouldn't have wondered about his personality at all.  This child is most definitely mine. When it comes to change, he resents it and challenges it, just like his mommy.

We are now on day three of transitioning naps from swing to crib.  Let me tell you a few things I've learned about Bee in these three days:

1) He has perseverance (which will come in handy later in life--but for right now, I'm adding it to the "naughty list" of his personality traits).
2) He has  envy-inducing conviction (again, we will all appreciate this later, but going on the "naughty list").
3) He knows where the video monitor is and stares into it practically taunting me with those big eyeballs...
4) He doesn't cry for very long (this is a good thing, I was worried he'd cry for hours).
5) He definitely understands that the crib is for sleeping at nighttime, but during the day, apparently he believes it must be used as a bounce house, cage-fighting ring, yoga studio, or a place to practice the newest sounds his mouth can make (the acoustics must please him).

Here is what I've learned about myself in the past three days:

1) I never thought I'd be fighting a psychological war with an (almost) 8 month old.
2) I never, EVER thought I'd consider surrendering in a psychological war with an (almost) 8 month old.
3) The universe actually DOES conspire against me--because I happened to get sick for the first time all year the day we started this (really?  Like I have an overflowing amount of patience without being sick).
4) I am, without a doubt, amazed at how little sleep Bee thinks he needs--and equally amazed at the fact that he won't sleep.  I mean, c'mon...wipe my butt, stick me in a dark and quiet room with a noise machine that has an alien living in it (three independent people have confirmed this--it says, "Go home..., go home..."), give me my lovey and I will gladly sleep for a few hours.
5) I will no longer believe any claim from a company that makes baby socks.  I've put two different brands on this child's feet so far that advertise being "most difficult for children to pull off!".  They lie.  Bee pulls both brands off with abandon and then uses them to fling about the crib or stuffs them in his mouth.

I have fantasized about putting him back in his swing (especially being sick--what I wouldn't give for two hours of sleep during the day for myself!).  If I take that step back though, I know that it will make this harder to do in the long run.  I would feel awful if he did indeed launch himself out of the swing.  He's already over the weight limit (and I've researched adult sized swings and that brought up some pretty sketchy websites).

The good news is, is that Bee is not upset and isn't crying like a maniac (until about 5pm when he FINALLY hits the wall from lack of sleep) and it IS teaching both of us many important things about the other--mainly, who will back down first.  The advantage I have in this is that I have been practicing my perseverance and conviction for almost 33 years.  Bee only has 7 months on me.

In the meantime, I will continue to stare at the video monitor for hours every day...because Bee may think he's watching me, but I'm watching him too...

It's Just Allergies...And Other Bold-Faced Lies Moms Tell

Honesty came uninvited into my life yesterday--I acknowledged that I was feeling symptoms of being sick.  This morning, definitely sick.  BUT I'm really trying to convince myself it's "just allergies" (lucky for me I live in a state where it's "allergy season" pretty much eleven months out of the year).

Why do I try to deny the illness and convince myself it's something much easier to ignore?  Because I lie.

Hello, my name is Amanda, I am a mom and wife, and a LIAR.

I don't condone lying--NOT AT ALL.  I even hate the little lies that are supposed to make people actually feel better (so never, EVER take me swimsuit or jeans shopping--I won't lie to you and your feelings will probably get hurt).  I appreciate honesty at all costs and teach my children the importance of telling the truth, even if you'll get into trouble (see my post on Connor getting punished over all-night gaming).

However, here's an actual TRUTH.  Moms (and Dads too) lie.  We do it because we feel like we have to or have convinced ourselves that it's okay in certain circumstances.  This is my chance to come clean...here are my favorite "mom lies":

1)  "I'm not sick, it's just allergies" (thus alleviating the stress of everyone else in the house and also partly convincing myself that I can take enough Claritin to finally see through the fog--hey, that's what their commercial implies!)
2)  "What?  The boys were cranky while I was gone? *scoff* They were angels all day for me" (when you left the house in the first place because they were actually mini terrorists all day)
3) "I just now showered because Bee was fussy and clingy all day" (really, I watched "Revenge", "Keeping Up With The Kardashians", and "The Carrie Diaries" while he napped)
4) "I wear sweatpants 90% of the time because Bee urps on me so much" (this is a partial truth--he DOES spit up on me...)
5) "Yes, I DID need a new Swiffer/vacuum/mop because our old one was broken.  Seriously.  How was it broken?  Well, that's hard to explain...it was this noise, then a crackle, then maybe some weird grinding?"
6) "No, the Diaper Genie didn't smell that bad the last time I put one in.  It's full, you say?  Oh, well..."
7) "I only go through 1/2 a case of Diet Coke per week"
8) "Yes, I turned the thermostat up because you were cold.  I'm not sure why you can't feel it yet.  I'm sweating."
9) "No really...I'm FINE" (no matter what the situation is, when someone says that, they are most definitely NOT fine)
10) "I don't know where the 2004 *insert name of favorite Oregon Pinot Noir* went".

So those are just a few of my favorite half-truths...I'm sure everyone, parent or otherwise, have a few of their own as well...