Tear jerker for the week

So I was chatting with a woman I know who is almost 90 years old. She was complaining that her hair needed to get done. I asked her if she went to the beauty parlor that was located in her retirement community. She said no, she goes to a woman she has been going to for oh, 15 years or so. Her son takes her out to her gal. "My son is so sweet. He lifts me up out of my wheelchair and sets me down into the shampoo chair. Then, when the ladies are done with me in the shampoo chair, he lifts me back up and out, and sets me back down in my wheelchair, and my little girl does my hair then, sets it in curlers, you know." I've met her son. He eats breakfast with her every morning. I had an image of him gently picking up his bird-like mother and settling her in her shampoo chair, then gently lifting her back to her wheelchair. This son is taking time out of his no-doubt busy schedule to get his mother to the beauty shop, just so she can keep going to the same little girl who knows how to get her curls sitting just right. I scolded this woman for telling me something that touched me so much. After all, the residents aren't supposed to see the rehab staff cry! She chuckled a little nervously, and said, "Are you saying that you envy me?" I told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was, indeed, a woman to be envied. Then I went to the bathroom and made sure there were no mascara marks all over my face.
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Brats in the Pool

Jacob had his swim lesson today, and generally did very well, if I do say so myself. The class comprises of about 6 kids, and the teacher does what he can to give them all individual attention. Most days, the 6 kids line up along the wall of the pool, and the teacher takes them out, one by one, doing whatever it is he's trying to show them. Today he was teaching them the rather complicated concept of side breathing while trying to do the free-style stroke. Never mind that my 3 year old hasn't a clue what "alternate" or "left hand" or probably even "breathing" means, he hung in there like a champ. A clueless champ, but a champ, nevertheless. Still, the complicated explanation paired with too long just hanging out on the wall in a not-so warm pool got the kids wiggling, talking, dunking, laughing, anything but really listening to the teacher. The teacher did what all teachers do: gave a little "Hey, I'm talkin' heeyah!" and told the kids to shhh. One kid refused to shh, and kept trying to engage Jacob in more general silliness. The teacher gave him a stern look and said, "Zip it", and then mimed zipping his mouth. That kid then got back into the teacher's face (the teacher is A LOT bigger than this kid, mind you) and said, "No, YOU zip it!" Yes folks, this is a kid who is probably not yet 6 years old, sassing a man who literally holds that kid's life in his hands. Not the smartest little booger, I would say. To the teacher's immense credit, he kept his cool, and simply told this brat that he could continue to swim and listen quietly, or he could sit on the edge of the pool for the rest of the lesson. He had to repeat the threat twice, but the kid eventually calmed down, and I didn't hear any other major snottiness. After the lesson was over, the teacher and I were chatting, and he said, "I've been doing this stuff for 30 years, and kids used to call me "sir". The attitude from kids this days...", and he just shook his head. "There are a few exceptions, of course, but on the whole, kids are just don't respect anybody anymore." Is that true, do you think? Are kids just brattier than they were 30 years ago? If so, what caused the shift? Are we, the parents of the future generation, raising a bunch of snot nosed, selfish little pricks who think it's ok to tell a man 12 times their age to "zip it!"? How do we stop this wave of total brat-o-rama? As for me, as Jacob and I were walking out, I marched him up to the teacher and demanded that he tell the teacher "Thank you". The teacher smiled and waved us on, clearly aware of the point I was trying to make. The OTHER kids may be jerks, but MY son, of course, has perfect manners.
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We are mainstream!

Hey, we made it into the Salt Lake Tribune! Ok, granted, the article was all about Bannergate over at T&S , but still, Mormon Mommy Wars is mentioned . They like us, they really like us! Woo-hoo! Don't get me started on the topic of the article, though. The whole Banner of Heaven thing just blows my mind, and I still can't figure it all out. Initially I thought that either the people who did it are just astonishingly egotistical or just a bunch of jerks. My husband, who knows several of the perpertrators personally, insists that they are neither, so I'm not sure where that leaves us. Oh well. But hey, negative coverage of the Bloggernacle notwithstanding, MMW is an acknowledged part of it all. Hooray!
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What's a SAHM?

Carrie made this comment on a previous post: "I feel far more comfortable when I am working in my field than when I am being a mom. I think I feel l am better at being a designer than I am at being a mom (at least for now), so I feel more confident in that arena. The funny thing is when people ask what I do, I automatically say I am a SAHM even though I work about 20 hours a week. I wonder why that is?" I think Carrie's feelings of being more competent in a professional arena than in her own home are not uncommon. When I went briefly went back to work full time after Jacob was born, I was overwhelmed with the feeling of confidence I had dealing with the problems at work compared to the guesswork of dealing with with a alien newborn at home. Interesting that we can feel so comfortable solving professional problems, but feel overwhelmed and helpless when it comes to calming a crying baby. Or soothing a grumpy toddler. Or cleaning up an entire box of Cheerios that has been dumped out on the carpet as a snack for the dog. (FYI-A dog can eat half a box of cereal in about 3 and half seconds. Who knew.) And I think this brings up another interesting question--can we still say we are SAHMs even if we work a little bit outside the home? I'm working now, but I still consider myself a SAHM, just because I'm working so little. And yet, technically, I guess I'm a working mom. I had a friend who worked way more than part time, and yet she would talk about being home with her kids. It used to bug the heck out of me, because I would scream at her in my head, "Stay-at-home moms don't get paychecks!" (Of course, now she has a nanny, so now I scream "Stay at home moms don't have nannies!) Are there gradations of being a SAHM, if you will, or do you automatically lose your status if you actually get a paycheck somewhere along the line? And if your paycheck is a pretty sad little sum, does it even count? Maybe we should have a pay scale category type thing: $100/month, well, that's so pathetic you're still considered a SAHM. $500/week--whoa, you've hit the bigtime baby--off to the working woman category for you!
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Confession

Last week one of my children came down with a case of the croup. Which is what Diana Barry’s little sister would have died from except for Anne Shirley’s quick thinking and prior experience. My pediatrician assured me we’ve come a long way since then. Anyway, we nursed this child through and she never really did get wheezy or struggle to breath which was a relief. Her worst complaint was a sore throat and her eyes stinging. We had a couple of really rough nights, but she finally bounced back and is doing fine now.

Yesterday I noticed another one of my children acting unusually lethargic and when I checked on her I could tell she had a fever. Then last night she started with the barking cough and a little wheezing. Fortunately we had a prescription for the medicine she needed and I’m sure in a few more days she’ll be fine.

So here’s the confession. Yesterday I was so consumed by this second child’s sickness. I kept checking on her and worrying about her when it dawned on me that my response to this child was totally different from my response with my first child to be sick. Now I hardly neglected my first child, I was busy giving her medicine and waiting on her and caring for her. The difference was my attitude. Child no. 1 is not my most stoic child. She’s very vocal about pain and discomfort and to be fair probably truly has a lower pain tolerance. She likes to be waited on and never seems to run out of requests. Most of the time I’m happy to do what I can to attend to her but can’t help but think she’s overreacting and really working it.

My second child is the exact opposite. Whenever she gets sick she just sort of curls up in a corner some where. When I find her and ask her if she’s okay she says she is. She never complains and hardly even speaks (let me stress that this behavior is ONLY when she is sick :)). She asks nothing of me and it makes me want to give her everything. I hover over her and do everything I can think of to make her comfortable.

So the bottom line -- both children were sick, both needed me to take care of them. One child needed and wanted a great deal of attention and one child wanted to lay around without needing a lot of attention. It came much easier to me to give the greater portion of my attention to the one who needed it less. Why is that? It makes me sad. If only my children could have a perfect mother.

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Mom incognito

This week marks my first official week back into the work force. It's not a spectacular entry--I'm only working about 10 hours a week, give or take, but it's definitely added something extra to my schedule, to be sure. The transition was a little bumpy, and we had some unexpected child-care issues, but all in all, everything went pretty well. My first day, I felt like a spy in disguise. People kept asking me questions about patients, looking to me to give answers, asking for my signature on mounds of paperwork. I even got to wear a nametag. All of these things made me giggle a little bit on the inside, because the whole time I was thinking, "Ha! These people don't realize that they're not talking to a speech pathologist, they're really talking to a MOM!" The whole day felt like that until the other speech pathologist said, "So, where else do you work?" BUSTED! I paused for a second, contemplating some pithy and enigmatic reply, but nothing came. I finally just said, "This is it. I have a son at home, and the rest of the time I'm a mom." I felt she had exposed my secret, and I wondered what she would think. To my surprise, her face lit up and she said, "Oh, that's what I want to do when I have kids! I'm getting married this year, and when we have kids, I don't want to work either! Has it worked out for you?" I smiled back at her and said, "Yeah, it's worked out great." And it has. Of course, when I went back to my regular life, I expected a huge welcome, hail the conquering hero, all of that. After all, Jacob's mother had been gone for hours! How had he survived? When I walked in, Jacob just looked up from snuggling with his Daddy while watching a movie and said, "Oh, hey Mom." So much for the hero's welcome. At least he didn't say, "Hey, I'm hungry. Go make dinner." Well, not immediately, anyway.
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So soft and cute

Truer words were never spoken. The little nose, the tiny whiskers, the little, beady red eyes that bulged when Bobo the python squeezed it to death. The mouse we fed to our snake tonight was indeed, so soft and cute. Jacob pronounced it so as he fled from the room in tears. Yes, we fed our snake tonight, for the first time since we acquired the reptile, oh, about a month ago. Ball pythons don't eat very often, are opportunistic feeders in the wild, and tend to get obese in captivity (only in America are our pet snakes too fat, too!), so I wasn't sure exactly how to proceed. The people who had the snake before us said he ate about once every two months, but sometimes more if he seemed to be on the prowl. Well, he seemed prowly, so we gave him a mouse. He disposed of it with suprising and sickening speed. I was actually quite impressed. Jacob was not. I prepped him pretty well when we bought the mouse, telling him that it wasn't going to be our pet, that it was really Bobo's food. He's told everybody and anybody who will listen that our snake "eats live mice".Still, he insisted on checking out the rodent in the carrying cardboard box, which was labeled "Handle me with Love". He also was really eager to watch Bobo eat the mouse, so I didn't let him play with it, or touch it, or even name it, because I knew he would freak out if Bobo ate "Puffy", or something like that. He freaked out anyway. That mouse was, after all, so soft and cute. So now we have a dilemma. Do we keep the snake? Do I use this opportunity to teach my child about nature, the great circle of life, and try to break his obvious bias for furry animals? Or do we just get rid of the creature and feel relieved while wallowing in our own irresponsibility as a pet owner? I feel strongly about taking responsibility for the animals one chooses to bring into one's home. I mean, it's like kids, right--don't have 'em if you're not going to raise them! Still, I guess my child's mental stability does come first. It won't do to be a good pet owner if my own child has nightmares about getting eaten by a python, now, would it? As squeamish as I am about the whole thing, it was pretty cool to watch the snake hunt. It was like the Discovery Channel, right there in the comfort of our own home.
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Traditions

Now that you’ve helped the Wiz with dinner, I need your help with the holidays. I LOVE the holiday season (namely, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years). Each year I look forward to those holidays with great anticipation, and each year they’re gone before I blink and I wonder if we gave them any of the significance they merit.

We live very close to my family and extended family. While this situation is perhaps another’s nightmare – I love it. Having lived out of state for 4 years and to come home where my children can regularly interact with their great-grandparents, grandparents and cousins means the world to me.

Here’s what our Thanksgiving will consist of this year. It’s our turn to be with my family this year and it’s my parents’ turn to be with my Dad’s family this year. So, our Thanksgiving group will be made up of Grandpa and Grandma, Mom and Dad, 7 uncles and 7 aunts and most of their children and some, like me, of our spouses and children. There are 44 grandchildren all together, and one aunt is still in production :). Several of my generation live far away and will probably not be able to join us, however, you get the picture – there will be a lot of us and we will be having this festive affair in a church building. Fun and festive it is, intimate it is not. Last time we attended this event, we ate and then I sat with my baby chatting with several aunts and uncles and cousins. My husband was outside being entertained with a go-cart and my kids ran around the building involved in all types of games and fun. We each had a marvelous time, but I honestly didn’t really even see my own little family except while we actually sat down and ate for a minute with 60ish other people. I left there feeling a little hollow. I want my kids to know why we celebrate and I want our celebration to reflect that and I want to celebrate it with them.

I don’t want to miss out on the big family shin-dig, so I decided the answer is to celebrate on our own the night before or the Sunday before. Sounds great, right? Right, but I have no idea what to do in our own little celebrations. Here’s where you come in. What do you do to celebrate Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years in a nice cozy meaningful way?

I know that beggars can’t be choosers, but to make this more helpful I should inform you of a few things: 1. I’m not super organized or detail oriented, if your suggestion requires a big detailed list of preparations I will be overwhelmed and dazed and either will not do it or I will but will be in such a bad mood I would seriously dampen the festive spirit. 2. I am not crafty in any way shape or form so if your suggestion involves creative crafting on my part I may go into a deep depression. 3. Money is an object. I’ve heard Thanksgiving is a fabulous time to go to Disneyland, but it just isn’t going to happen. Hopefully I haven’t scared you all off. I would love to hear your traditions, please!!!

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Spinoff from SAHMs in sweats

Ok, Adrianne has taken a lot of heat around here. A lot. Thanks for sticking around, Adrianne. A lesser woman would have fled. You've got some heuvos, girl. I was checking out the discourse between Tracy M and Adrianne over at Dandelion Mama (seriously you guys, check it out. I'm too lazy to post a link, just click on the sidebar, and dig through the August archives. It's Tracy's very first post.) There has been a lot of talk about how young Adrianne is, and she said something on Tracy's blog about how her opinion shouldn't be less respected just because she is 22. Hmm. She might be right about that. But then again, she might not. My older sisters read this blog occasionally, and the oldest one, a fantastic pillar of the faith who has definitely been through some serious motherhood battles, says that she just has to laugh at all of us young moms, twiddling about this and that. "Just live a little bit longer, and you'll get it!" she says. My visiting teacher said the same thing. I ranted and raved about some catastrophic mess that befell my house because Jacob is 3, and she said, "I've got a mop and some cleaning supplies. Those problems, I can fix. Little kids, little problems. Big kids, big problems." And her accounts of trying to curtail her teenager's underage drinking and drug use shut me up real fast. I'll take fingerpainting with poop any day over substance abuse, thank you very much. So should we dismiss our problems because we are young? Does being young really mean that we don't know anything? We are all dumb and naive at some point in our lives (some longer than others, to be sure), but that's something that usually, we can't really help. It's not Adrianne's fault she's 22. Now, of course, if young people have stupid ideas, just because they're young, does that mean we should talk them out of them, or should we just wait until they're old? Should we try to educate each other, or just let each other learn as we go, and hope nobody has to go the hospital because of anything too stupid along the way? And don't hesitate to comment because you're young. Or old. Or crazy. We take everything except spam. Just don't call anybody a JackAss. With that, dear friends, I'm going to bed. Finally. In my sweats. Which are still dirty.
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SAHMs in sweats

Adrienne has noticed something about the SAHM she encounters during the day. She thinks we look like crap. She wonders: what it is about SAHMs that make us think we can let ourselves go? The ponytails and sweats, no make-up. Apparantly, there was something about this on Oprah, where lots of SAHMs said that they had let themselves go, and it has made them depressed and sad. Do we all have to shuffle around, looking so frumpy? Can't we make it a priority to make ourselves look nice? If we have time to blog, we have time to fix ourselves up a little bit. We would all feel better if we looked better. (Adrienne, I think this is the crux of the issue--looking better so we all feel better. Am I headed in the right direction here?) Ok. Let's talk about that. First, let's start with some basic issues that a non-mom doesn't get: 1) Sleep deprivation. It's constant. You can't possibly understand how tired one human being could possibly get and still be required to function unless you are a mother, or one of those soldiers in Vietnam tortured and brainwashed with no sleep. Getting up 45 minutes earlier to look good for people you don't care about (because the people you do care about, your children, could care less what you look like, and you've got at least 8 hours before your husband gets home!) is really not that appealing. Ever. 2) The messiness factor. My loving sister gave me a beautiful leather jacket for Christmas when I was pregnant, and it sat for 2 years in my closet before I wore it. Why? Because I didn't want to get baby body juice all over it. We wear sweats because kids are messy, and thus moms are always messy. We don't want to ruin nice clothes, so sweats it is for those oh so fancy trips to Target. 3) Ever tried putting on make-up with a little kid around? Jacob ruined 3 lipsticks, a blush, and an expensive eyeliner before I finally figured out I couldn't put make-up on anywhere except for in the car while I was driving when he was safely strapped in, far, far away from those magical and permanent staining items. Luckily, the day he ruined my lipstick, I was wearing sweats. 4) Showering with a small child around is not as easy as you might think. And leaving any child unattended for 45 minutes while you do anything with your hair is a recipe for disaster. You may ask, why not shower while your child naps and make yourself look all lovely when he's asleep? Well, that's a good point, unless you want to sleep when your child sleeps (see #1 above), or unless your child naps in the afternoon (which accounts for like, 99% of all toddlers), which leaves you the morning to go to Target stinky and ponytailed, providing more fuel for non-mothers to say, "Wow, she's really let herself go." I don't think that motherhood automatically gives us license to eat bon-bons, get fat and groty and never take care of ourselves. But I think it's hard to realize when you are not a mom how little time we have to do just that--take care of ourselves. So the next time you see a tired, bedraggled woman pushing a cart through the grocery store in a ponytail and sweats, please don't wonder why she doesn't have any make-up on. Just be proud that she's trying to actually buy real food and not ordering pizza all the time to feed her kids. And remember that the grocery store is not the Ritz Carlton. There are no dresscodes there, after all. At least not the last time I checked. This is, of course, just one woman's opinion. Adrienne feels strongly that this is an important issue, so please, ladies, I want everybody's 2 cents. You could even toss in a dime if you're feeling particularly perky. And FYI, I wrote this entire post while wearing sweats. Dirty ones.
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