Ramblings of a Blogging Mom

Growing up, especially when I was a teen, I remember numerous (possibly hundreds) of times that I said, "I will NEVER do that!" after my parents did something I thought was completely heinous. Don't judge...you know you did the same damn thing. Like for one, I SWORE I would never get divorced. And now look at me. I also swore I wouldn't yell at my kid, say the phrase "Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about", tell my kid they can't do something just because everyone else is doing it, or lick my finger and wipe my kids face with my slobbery digit....among like 73 other things. I can officially say...I have done..and will probably do again..all of these things.

However, there are plenty of things my parents did do that I hope I can live up to. Or at least do half as well.

My mom is really crafty. She sewed almost all of my Halloween costumes and prom dresses. She can paint, sew, cook, draw, and write. She also did some really fun things. Sometimes on the weekends she would let my brother and I "cook" while she fixed us breakfast. And by cook I mean she let us make a ridiculous mess. We would take empty 2 liter Diet Pepsi bottles and put water, milk, egg shells, and God knows what else in there. I am sure it was ridiculous to clean, but it's one of those things I will always remember. Along with things like making gingerbread houses. She would let Chance and I make these gingerbread houses at Christmas time. And we made them. But we also made a ridiculous mess to go with our masterpieces. And she NEVER said anything about it. I am sure when she woke up the next morning to go to work she thought a nuclear bomb went off in her kitchen. But she never said a thing. ((I would have had a meltdown of epic proportions)) My mom pretty much was up for anything. If I wanted to get all dressed up for no reason, she would play along. If I wanted to perm my hair (ughh..big mistake..all 3 times) she would perm it for me. My mom would do whatever spontaneous, ridiculous thing us kids wanted to do. And I HOPE I can be like that. I hope Bowen remembers painting his body and the floors. I hope we get to do silly things like "cook" breakfast. Mostly, I hope I can make Bowen's childhood fun and silly and make him feel like a kid as often as possible, because that is what I love about my mom.

And then there is my dad. OH my dad. The dad that used to put rubber bands in my hair instead of hair ties. The dad who always told me that it doesn't matter what everyone else is doing or if it will make me lose friends, if something is wrong, do the right thing. The dad that taught me how to fight dirty after I got my ass kicked for the first time. (he said eye ball gouging was definitely ok, along with earring ripping out, and biting if necessary lol) The same dad that watched me fail miserably at my first debate tournament when I was in 8th grade (in my defense I was going up against 10-12th graders and I had never had formal training) and made me feel like I didn't actually suck ass. (And I REALLY sucked ass) My dad has been a shoulder to cry on, a hard ass, embarrassing (VERY embarrassing), but always had the best advice. Still does. He has survived cancer, raised a hellion of an eldest daughter, can be the sweetest guy in the world, or the meanest SOB you've ever met.

SO....as a parent...I know I am going to make a jillion mistakes. I am already to at least a million so a jillion may be setting it pretty low. I yell a lot, I have wiped Bowen's face with my spit covered finger, and threatened a spanking when he was already crying. (I didn't follow through though) I've also been known to serve popcorn and popsicles for dinner, let paint cover both of our bodies, and let him use an entire box of bandaids on his "boo-boo's" in one day. I hope one day when Bowen is older he remembers the ridiculous things we do and will do. I hope I can offer the advice I have been given, teach him how to throw a good punch, and always have a literary piece that fits every situation. I hope I can live up to my the good that my parents have done and don't repeat any other mistakes they have made. Aside from the few I already have.

And that is my insight for the night. I'm a mom, but I'm human. Really, I am just trying to figure out this whole parenting thing one day at a time. And, like most things I do, I have a couple of hiccups every now and then. But, as Bowen lays next to me sleeping peacefully, I realize that I'm not doing too bad. He is healthy, smart, and pretty damn sweet. And with any luck he will make it through his childhood and teenage years with minimal therapy and no criminal record.

Missed Life Lessons

Growing up my mom always made her and my dad's bed every day. I think she tried for like...a year..to get me and my brother to make our beds ever day, but she eventually gave up. Anyways, I always thought that being a grown up and a mom I would have a neat, well put together house, and my room would be clean and organized and my bed would be made every day with cute decorative pillows. Now I am a grown up and a mom...and shit could not be more opposite.

Let it be said that we don't live in filth. But our house is not ever completely clean..like no toys on the floor, everything dusted, bedrooms clean with beds made. Nope. That shit never happens. I never make the bed. Ever. Even when I wash the sheets and everything. I throw them on the bed, throw the comforter on, and call it good. Today was the first time in like a week and a half that Bowen's play area downstairs was picked up. And right this very minute, there is a large train track...half assembled...covering that very floor again. ((I did sweep during the 20 minutes it was clean)) And I'm looking at my dresser right now, with its drawers half closed with shirts and bras hanging out of it. (At least they are off the floor) So point is...I think there are much more important things to do (like play "catch" with Bowen and eat popsicles in the backyard) than worry about my house looking like a room in Better Homes and Gardens. (Not that I could ever "design" a room that looks that awesome. Not one of my skills)

My favorite thing about weekends is that we don't have to rush to get out of bed, we can all snuggle in bed and be lovey. This morning Jason and I woke up before Bowen (which I don't think is ok...if baby is sleeping then mommy should be able to sleep) and were quietly talking about how Bowen had slept on my pillow with me all night AND left a massive drool spot on the bed. Shortly after Bowen woke up and we were all talking and playing and watching cartoons when Jason made the remark that today he was going to make Mommy and Daddy's bed.

Bowen looked at Jason so completely confused and said, "Make it into what?"

Which of course made us start cracking up. I wish I could have taken a picture of his facial expression because it made it soooo much more hilarious.

So anyways...I realized it is kind of sad that my child doesn't know what it means to make the bed. Am I failing as a parent? Isn't this one of those things we are supposed to be teaching him? How can he know what all the words to "Like A G6" but not know what making the bed is?

Wait..wait..wait. That's right. I'm too busy teaching him that its not ok to constantly touch his penis even though it is HIS penis, that the word "shit" is ONLY used by grown ups, and that he can't bust my ass, only I can bust his ass. THESE are necessary and important life lessons...making a bed can wait until he can actually carry a sheet without tripping over it 45 times. Alright..I'm all good, at least for another few years.

Party in the Potty

Holy balls its been a minute since I've posted last. But I guess that is what happens when you get a promotion, have family in town, have birthdays to celebrate, and diets to cheat on. Oh life. It really SOUNDS a lot more interesting than it is...because it really isn't.

My sweet, sweet boy turned four. Trips me out that he is that old. But he recently told me, "Mommy..I'm your best friend and you're my homie" And that reminded me that I really don't have a baby anymore.

Another thing that reminded me that my son is definitely not a baby was a recent trip to go potty. Only in my life could things go so horribly wrong.

A week ago I was in a dr's office lobby and I knew that as soon as we got into the actual office he would need to pee. So I drug him into the bathroom with me. He peed, then I decided I had to pee. So I sit down. And he loudly says, "MOMMY!!! Are you going poop?!" and I said, "SHHH and no!!! I am just going pee!" He looks at me and says, "Well standing up means pee and sitting down means poop. You're sitting down....SooOOoo...that means poop." Once again, he was yelling this at me, but I replied with a calm, "But I'm a girl..I don't have a penis..so I have to sit down to pee." Then..slightly horrified he yells, "YOU DON'T HAVE A PENIS!?!?!?" Pretty sure the people in the building across the street heard this entire conversation. ((Really..why are all bathrooms so damn echoey?))

In reality we were in the bathroom less than 5 minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. And I had to walk out into the lobby filled with people giggling and smiling. And because of this I felt like I had to clear some things up to these 5 strangers and said, "Just for the record..I did not poop and I definitely do not have a penis."

Which made the group erupt into laughter.

Maybe I should get out of the travel coordinator business and try being a comedian. I have plenty of embarrassing moments (like everyday) that entertain people. Watch out Kathy Griffin..I am going to take over.