Confessions of a (Not So )Domestic Diva

Baby It’s Cold Outside January 20, 2008

My house smells like Vicks VapoRub. Well, it smells like VapoRub and Baby Rub. I am armed with two kinds of Tylenol, two kinds of rub and the ever so popular saline spray and aspirator. My kids are soooo in love with me right now!! They’re yelling more than usual at my approach. 🙂

Add to it that it’s maybe 9 degrees in Ohio tonight, there’s no school tomorrow and the coffeemaker has decided to take it’s leave. Whaa…? Yes, I understand the “conspiracy theory” right this minute. Mom-coffee+kids with colds+extra day WITH kids with colds= more chaos than you could ever. possibly. imagine.

I’m double stressed because this is Taylor’s first cold, and she’s still so little. I’m on Baby #3 and have never had a young infant with a cold. But, I think I’m handling it fairly well. I know what she can and can’t have, and she is in a shockingly good mood for someone so stuffy. I just feel so bad for her- she’s sniffly and then here Mommy comes with that damn nose thingy again. I’d scream about it, too!

My plan to survive? Get the monsters in bed, make some hot tea and soak in a hot bath for a bit. Probably with my Nora Roberts. And quite possibly some tequila.
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On Seven January 17, 2008

Miss Lyss will be eight in March. She’s looking forward to this birthday as much as she has all the others, because eight is so much closer to thirteen, which is so much closer to being a TEENAGER. Teenager is always said in all caps, with a reverence some use for prayer. And I have to stop and do a double check that she isn’t already a teenager, because she sure acts like one sometimes. Already she sighs, rolls her eyes and has that tone. You know, that “oh my God, you have no idea just how tough it is dealing with your dumb ass, Mom” tone.

I’ve enjoyed her being seven. Second grade has given her a little more individuality, and she’s found her niche in school I think. Miss Lyss is a Brain. But a Brain with style. She’s started developing her own taste in clothes (actual taste, not the former “if it’s shiny or neon, I’ll wear it” of years past), books, and music. She’s on the Hannah Montana bandwagon, as well as the High School Musical (both of them) kick. The latter comes from her early love of Grease, passed down by me. We share a love of music and musicals, me and my long legged girl. We share a lot, really, but her personality outshines mine in so many ways. She’s far from shy and introverted; she’ll befriend anyone and talk to everyone. She’s still sort of in the stage of wanting to be just like me, but that’s passing. Too fast, that’s passing.

Seven, for me, will be remembered as the year of the Talk. Or at least parts of it. She had a lot of questions after the baby came, naturally. Miss Lyss has a lot of questions about everything; the kid absorbs knowledge like nothing I’ve ever seen. She wants to know it all, in detail, right this second. So she wanted to know about the baby, and why her friend’s mommy’s baby did not come out of her belly like ours did. I attempted to explain it away with vaguely telling her I had to have a C-section, which is an operation, because some babies come that way. She nodded and I thought I was home free. A pause, then…

… “Where do the rest of them come out?”

As awful as it sounds, I was half tempted (in my unpreparedness and desperation) to tell her I simply didn’t know. No clue, sorry kid, see ya later. But I’ve always said that I would answer my kids’ questions openly and honestly. I didn’t have that openness with my own mom, and I remember some of the questions I had and didn’t always get the answers to.

So I took a deep breath and attempted to fumble my way through an explanation that would be non-graphic, not scary and yet informative. Which led to “ok, so how did she get in there?” Again, more fumbling.

Her reactions were priceless though. “Why would anyone want to do that anyway? Gross!” My exact thought when I first learned the mechanics of it all.

My reaction? The exact same as my own mother’s: “Remember that in ten years or so, kid.”

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Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered….

So we’ve been watching American Idol. **sigh** I can’t seem to get away from it, and I’m not really sure what prompts me, or Jim (handsomely bearded husband) to plop down four hours of our week to see some good, more mediocre, very few super talented, and hundreds upon hundreds of train wrecks. But, we do it. And we are not alone.

But, I digress (as usual). Tuesday we were watching, and a woman named Beth popped in and sang some Sinatra. Beth is 28 ( I think??) and there was just something, something besides her age and that particular song that opened my mouth. (Beth is going to Hollywood, by the way. Yay Beth!)
I wandered back into the room and leaned against the couch for a second. “Wonder if she’s one of us?” I said more to myself than to Jim. “Us” meaning the women of my age group that not only grew up on a little group called New Kids on the Block (cue memories of screaming tweenys and flying panties), but still purchase solo albums from any of the ex members with their own thing going on.

The reason I asked this was because of “Talk To Me”, the latest solo from Joe McIntyre, the baby blued cutie that made me (and eight hundred thousand other girls) shriek at levels only small children and animals can hear. TTM is a tribute to Mr. McIntyre’s own all time fave, Old Blue Eyes himself Frank Sinatra. And “Bewitched” is on that album. So it seemed reasonable to wonder if that was where Beth’s song came from. Not that I’ll ever know, but it was interesting. (To me.)

The boy band rage has slowly been coming alive in our house these days, anyway. My 7 year old is slowly sinking into the craze with the Jonas Brothers. I recognize the glazed look she gets in her eyes. I recognize it and pray that there is no merchandising for these Brothers- my parents probably spent a small fortune on all of the NKOTB paraphernalia I had to acquire (or DIE! just DIE!! without it!!) and could probably very well have retired to Aruba or something, had I not needed that last hot pink slap bracelet. But I did need it, dammit, just as I’m certain Miss Lyss will need whatever version of little girl eye candy comes from this. And who am I to begrudge her? I still have everything New Kids packed away, and I still smile a little when Radio Disney plays The Right Stuff. I will embrace my daughter’s boy band love and have my own walk down memory lane as I do it. Too bad none of ’em have those pretty blue eyes, though….

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Five Minutes January 7, 2008

This has become my most frequently uttered sentence “Can I just have five minutes of…” Here you can fill in the last part with “to myself”, “of peace and quiet”, or “without one of you screaming.” I knew this Mom deal was hard, but man it’s gotten harder. 3 is quite a big difference from 2, especially when the 2 were already school age and past the completely dependent stage of things. Our little newbie has been a challenge, like our oldest was. It must be a girl thing- that coming into the world already defiant, opinionated, and loud.

In part, I admit, is the already tense atmosphere. I’m not overly calm by nature; I’m the biggest worrier and Nervous Nelly there is. Add kids to that and you can imagine the added worries, from everything to sniffles to safety when they leave the house. Cause let’s face it- the world is pretty damn scary these days, and it’s gotten to be almost like playing roulette just sending them to school.

I should, before I go any further, explain some of the dynamics in the house. If not, most of what I say will sound even nuttier than it is… and by God, I can sound nutty. My six year old son has, until the arrival of the little one, pretty much run the schedule and the house due to his needs. He was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder at four, and is still not completely diagnosed. It’s been a constant trial and error with different therapies and meds, school schedules, home schedules, tests and the like. Life with him is very difficult, because you honestly never know what you are dealing with from moment to moment. To have a diagnosis, even partial, has helped immensely. But there’s still the unknown. (If the kid isn’t somewhere on the autism spectrum, I’ll eat my PC, seriously.)

Add to that an older daughter, as well as husband and now a new baby. All which need and deserve attention and affection. The baby demands the attention, naturally- she is 100% dependent on us for her every need. And who can resist smooching all over baby cheeks, feet or trying to squeeze those chubby little thighs? Especially for one of those first grins- oh man that kid can steal your every breath with that grin! My oldest vies for attention, and has (rightfully so) gotten pretty resentful. It’s hard being seven and expected to understand all of it. Hell, it’s hard being twenty nine and wrapping your head around it.

So, now it’s just that much harder to grab five minutes. For anything. To toss a load of laundry in. To grab a cup of coffee, and drink it while it’s hot (coffee is hot?!? REALLY? I don’t remember!) And God forbid I grab the phone and take off with it. Any mom can attest to that- the entire house can be quiet and settled. Then you grab the phone, a book, or something else to do and suddenly, you are the most popular person on the face of the Earth. To everyone. Including your husband. And any pet you may have. You are needed for something, or loved so much that you must cuddle, or talk, or help…. and then comes the “OH MY GOD CAN YOU JUST GIVE ME FIVE MINUTES!?!?”

I am now going to take advantage of my own five minutes, and simultaneously start laundry, grab something to drink and hide in the bathroom to “pee” -aka reading for three minutes periods of time, and sneaking some of the nicotine I need to get through the day. (And yes, smoking’s bad,I get it. I don’t do it around the kids, so no preaching is needed. Thank you, please come again.)

I’m going to try to figure out how to put some pics up here soon, and try to make this a daily, or at least every other day, thing. I think it’ll keep me somewhat sane. LOL

What keeps you sane?

 

The Intro -aka Reasons To Read, Or Avoid This Blog January 4, 2008

Hello all of you in Blog World. Since this is my first post, I thought I’d do a brief intro as well as a warning of sorts to those of you who enjoy reading people’s blogs. And there’s nothing wrong with that- it’s interesting to get a glimpse into someone else’s world, and I do it as much as I can get away with. : )

First off, like my profile says, I’m 29, have 3 kids and am a full time mom. I have two daughters, oldest 7 years, youngest 7 weeks, and one son, who turns six today. I also have a husband and a small menagerie of cats. I’m an animal person, to a fault, and the menagerie is ever growing, to my husband’s (at first) chagrin, (followed by) abject horror, & (replaced finally with) threats upon my well being should I attempt to add another furry creature to this household. Ever. At any time. In the future. Did I mention EVER?

I can be pretty long winded, so when I blog, don’t expect short and sweet. Well, ok, don’t ever pop in expecting sweet. I’m not a shiny happy person, even on a good day, and some days I’m really a bitch. But I’m honest and opinionated, and unapologetic for my views on the world, including my household and the way it’s run. Sometimes it runs smoothly, and other days I’m left wondering why it is like wrestling with wild animals to get anything done.

I’m starting out with comments open and I do welcome any opinion, feedback, etc. But, if you send me hate mail, I’m going to post it. In it’s entirety. No matter who you are. And expect incessant mocking, ridicule, and perhaps a profanity laced response. On a good day. And right now, there are few of those- right now is a haze of sleep deprivation, adjustment, and wondering when the hell these so called “baby blues” will go away. Because just when you think they have….

Anyway, that’s my first blog. It’s not always gonna be savvy or sassy in here, humor filled or even entertaining. But it will always be real, always be honest and always be where I’m at when I’m writing. Like my life, this blog promises to be a friggin roller coaster… so strap in.