If You Give a Mom a Role of Paper Towels

The other day my good friend and I were discussing that classic children’s book, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. No, our mom brains have not atrophied to the point where we can only discuss children’s literature or poop. We weren’t discussing the book so much as the fact that it is basically a satire of a day in the life of a mom. Now I present to you my own version of If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, except in this case it’s If You Give a Mom a Role of Paper Towels…

If you give a mom a role of paper towels,

She will use it to clean up the lemonade that her kids spilled on the floor.

While she is wiping up the spill she will notice the crumbs and sticky foot prints on the rest of her kitchen floor.

She will probably end up washing the whole floor.

While she is on her hands and knees washing the floor, she will notice the water spots on her cabinets, so she will have to get the Orange Glow to clean them.

While she is finishing the cabinets her preschooler will hit his brother with a block, so she will stop to put him in time out.

While she is setting the oven timer for the time out, she will notice the finger prints on her oven, so she will have to get the vinegar to clean it.

When she goes into the laundry room to get the vinegar she will remember that she is behind on laundry, so she will throw in a load.

By the time she throws in the load the oven timer will go off, so she will talk to her preschooler and remember that she still needs to clean the oven.

The smell of vinegar will remind her that she hasn’t cleaned the windows in a while, so she will decide to wash them.

While she is washing the windows, the baby will make a deposit in his diaper, so she will have to change it.

While she is getting a clean diaper she will step on a lego that was left of the stairs and accidentally say a not nice word.

Her preschooler will hear the not nice word and repeat it.

When she explains to the preschooler that that word is not nice, he will start shouting it, so she will put him in time out.

While she is setting the oven timer she will remember that she still has not finished cleaning the oven.

While she is cleaning the oven she will remember that she was also going to clean the windows.

While she is cleaning the windows, the baby will remind her that he still needs a diaper change, so she will change the diaper.

While she is throwing the diaper away she notices that the trash is full, so she’ll have to take it out.

When her preschooler sees her taking the garbage out without him he will get mad and say the not nice word.

She will threaten to wash his mouth out with soap.

Mentioning soap will remind her that the sink is full of dishes, so she will head into the kitchen to wash them.

On her way to the sink she will notice the books strewn across the kitchen table.

She will put them back on the bookshelf.

When her kids see her organizing the bookshelf, they will want her to read to them.

After the first three and a half pages they will stop listening, so she will proceed to washing the dishes.

While she is washing the dishes she will noticesher favorite coffee mug.

The coffee mug will remind her that she hasn’t had her coffee yet, so she will brew herself a cup.

When her kids see her drinking out of the mug they will remember that they are thirsty.

So they will ask her for a drink.

She will give them some lemonade.

Chances are if she gives them some lemonade they will spill it on the floor.

And she’ll need a role of paper towels to clean it up.

That is the true story folks. The end.

Picture Imperfect, Take I

My first mistake was going to lunch beforehand. It was the day before Aiden's fourth birthday and I was planning on taking the boys to the mall for their six month and four year pictures, and then to lunch at a place of Aiden's choosing, which happened to be Chick fila. I had an 11:00 appointment so I figured the timing would work out perfectly. I had the boys dressed in their "best bro" shirts and I was ready to head out the door when Elliott had a diaper explosion all over his white shorts. Seriously, do babies go to school for this stuff? Why do they always save up the biggest poop for when you are headed out the door? Let's just say the mess was so big that I missed my appointment and the picture studio could not get me in until 12:15. No problem, we would just do Chick fila first since it is next to the mall.

By now you know that when I say "no problem" I actually mean multiple problems. Lunch began innocently enough. (Note: when both of your children are cooperating it actually means they are plotting against you). Aiden devored his nuggets and made fast friends with a boy in the play area while I sat with my mom, drank lemonade, and fed Elliott. Aiden and his new friend aka cohort had disappered through the tubes to hide out in a plastic car suspended in the air. I entered the sacred play area and called to Aiden that it was time to go for pictures. Apparently wanting to show off in front of his new friend, he shouted, "No, I won't come down and you can't get me!" He may have been right except for the fact that he has a mother who does not mind embaressing herself. I climbed right up the plastic stairs and through the plastic tubes to drag my child out of the car while my mom and another grandmother laughed their asses off. See that, I showed my son that I most certainly can make him while providing entertainment to the other adults disillusioned enough to eat lunch at a restaurant containing plastic tubes. I marched Aiden out of the play area while my mom attempted to tell me how ridiculous I looked through her bouts of laughter. Notice that I haven't even gotten to the picture part of the story.
We managed to get to our appointment on time and I figured we were home free. Aiden is a show off and usually loves to get his picture taken, and Elliott was sitting in his stroller contentedly  chewing his feet (plotting). Photographer Lady eyed Elliott and asked, "Does he sit up on his own yet?" I explained that while he could do a tripod sit he still toppled backwards without something behind him. "Well, at this age we usually like to have them sitting up on their own." Um, okay, sorry that my child's development at the ripe old age of six months isn't up to your standards. Would you liked me to come back for his six month pictures in a month or two? Would that be more convenient for you? I looked around to make sure I hadn't accidentally driven to the pediatrician, a possibility considering that I hadn't had my coffee yet. After expressing her disappointment in Elliott's lack of independent sitting, she kept us waiting a good half hour while she apparently rebuilt the background, and then we were finally called. I cringed when it was time to turn Aiden away from Bob the Builder  (remember the Babies R' Us incident?) but he walked right over to the background. The photographer snapped a few pictures of the boys until the back light timed out. While she was attempting to fix the light Aiden and Elliott took the opportunity to put their scheme into action. Between waiting and posing Elliott had had enough and began fussing. Aiden told him to stop "Or else I won't be your big brother anymore". The photographer fixed the light and decided to get a cute pose of Elliott draped over Aiden's back. Since Aiden had disowned him, he began wiggling and trying to get him off of his back, his feet kicking the background. "Honey, don't kick the background, please", said Photogropher Lady. Isn't that kind of like telling Cain and Able to please not disturb the foliage? Never mind the fact that, "Oh Honey, please don't..." is rarely an effective way to tell a four year old to stop doing something. Remember, we still had to change shirts and take individual pictures. I got through it by fantasizing about the large mocha latte from Gloria Jeans with which I was going to reward myself after the picture fiasco. I fully believe that malls house a variety of specialty coffee shops just to keep moms sane enough to actually make it into a store. Well played, mall, well played. Take two.

Chaos By Design

I realize that I am about six months behind on my blog posts. Okay, fine, eight. I have them written, it is just  the small matter of actually getting to the computer to post them. At this point I could list a litany of excuses (is it still an excuse if it is true?) to account for my delays and also bemoan the fact that I am extremely busy, but neither of us have time for that. Besides, it is only six days until Christmas and I have to work on my excuses as to why cards are late. I know it is human nature to play the busy card like it is some kind of contest (Oh you think you have a lot to do? Well, wait until you see my calendar...) but I can't complain when I over schedule myself. Someone once said idle time is the devil's play and I think this individual had a four year old. Driving from mom's group to school to park district activities with two kids in winter coats drives me crazy, but considerably less so than staying at home and doubling as a cruise director (Mom, what should we do next?). So here I am getting some writing and posting done in the small window of time while one child is in school and the other sleeps. After school it is off to the chiropractor and then acting class, as if four year olds need to be schooled in acting. Tomorrow is Aiden's last day of preschool before Christmas break, and a break from school for kids equals a break from sanity for parents, but I digress. For now I will write and post until the chaos resumes. And you can read. Unless you are busy, or something.

The Best of Times and the Worst of Times

I am talking about bedtime, although I suppose the adage could apply to childhood in general. I have found an odd universal truth to all children: they hate sleeping. If you mention bedtime to a three year old and you may as well be mentioning the zombie apocalypse. "Noooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!! I don't want to go to (yawn) bed!!!!! I am NOT (yawn) tired!!!!!!!" Of course, little kids are never tired, which works out great because once you become a parent you are never not tired. The stay at home parent cannot leave "the office" at five P.M. unless they want to risk being charged with child neglect, so bedtime marks the end of the day. Genius, right? I bet you would never have connected bedtime to the end of a day without me. You will have to excuse my lack of creativity today, I am sleep deprived. Yes, I do use sleep deprivation as an excuse for everything. "Sorry I am late, the baby was up every hour last night". "I would love to commit to that but Aiden hasn't been sleeping well, so we will have to see how it goes". "I know I shouldn't eat this chocolate chip cookie for lunch, but I didn't get a lot of sleep last night." Incidentally, this is also the reason that I don't work out. Not sleeping is my workout. I have also read somewhere (I can't remember where) that a side affect of sleep deprivation is short term memory loss.
What was I talking about, again? Oh, yes, bedtime. The end of the work day and the beginning of trying to clean your house so that it will look clean while you are in bed and then be torn apart again in the morning. I am very fortunate that I have a husband who takes it upon himself the restore some order to the house while I am wrestling alligators, I mean getting my children to go to sleep. Ahhh, bedtime. It is the point in the day where my patience has run out and I am ready for some peace and quiet, an adult TV show, or at least a fourth cup of coffee. Of course, my children have no idea as to the beauty of bedtime. My three year old believes that bedtime is a form of torture created by cruel parents ("But I thought you loved me"). My four month old actually goes to bed pretty willingly and has a great two hour night's sleep, by which point I have finally threatened, tricked, bribed, and begged Aiden to sleep. By the time bed time roles around I have pretty much lost all patience and energy, and Aiden knows it. I may have mentioned this fact previously, but remember sleep deprivation causes short term memory loss, unless of course you are a three year old, in which case it causes extreme hyperactivity. Getting Aiden to stay in bed is like pushing down on of those damn inflatable punching bags with the weights in the bottom. He pops right back out.
Some of you may be wondering, why don't I establish a bedtime routine. Thanks, Dr. Ferber, but I thought of that three years ago. Bedtime starts out innocently enough.

Me: "It is time to go upstairs for bath."

Aiden: "I don't want to take a bath."

Me: "We have cool bath finger paints. Hurry up or Elliott will use them all."

I then proceed to fill Elliott's infant tub and the big tub, get both boys in, lather, rinse, repeat, drain. Next step: Get the boys dried off and into pajamas.

Aiden: "I don't want to get out of the bath tub!"

Elliott: "Wahhhh AHHHHH!!!!"

Aiden: "Elliott, you CANNNOT cry!"

I dread bath time. I could write an entire post on how much I detest bath time. I could, but I won't.
After bath time comes saying prayers and reading books. Aiden cannot listen to books unless he is also eating a snack. Apparently his ears only work if his mouth is moving. I get Aiden his snack and water and nurse the baby while reading books. After books are completed I lay Elliott down in his crib with his music and pacifier and instruct Aiden to go potty and brush his teeth. Then I instruct Aiden to go potty and brush his teeth again. I threaten Aiden with no song if he does not go potty and brush his teeth THIS INSTANT. I run into Elliott's room to reinsert his pacifier and restart his music, then reenter the hallway and yell, "BE QUIET, YOUR BROTHER IS GOING TO SLEEP, AND BRUSH YOUR TEETH." Finally, I get Aiden into his bed, put his CD player on repeat so that he doesn't wake up at 2:00 A.M. and yell, "Mom, turn my music back on", turn on the closet light, check for mosters, turn on the dresser light, plug in the night light, hunt down bear and snuggle blanket which are usually in a convenient place like downstairs on top of the dryer, make up a story, answer fifty questions about what we are going to do tomorrow, and say goodnight. Are you tired yet? I sure as hell am. Aiden is not. He is just getting started. By this point it is eight o'clock and I have resorted to answering, "So what else are we going to do tomorrow?" with, "Nothing if you don't go to sleep." This is followed by an hour or so of Aiden getting out of bed and running down the hallway laughing manically and me putting him back in bed. Finally I come to the conclusion that I can either continue this game or lay in Aiden's bed and feign sleep while getting headbutted and kicked. This is how bad habits start, people. Of course, once a seemingly innocent habit like laying with your kid until he falls asleep begins it is almost impossible to break, which is why I was NEVER GOING TO BE THE PARENT THAT STAYS WITH MY KID UNTIL HE FALLS ASLEEP. I am pretty sure I actually said that when I was much less sleep deprived.
Sadly, neither of my kids sleep though the night. Elliott still wakes up every 2-3 hours and Aiden wakes up sometime between 2:00 and 4:00 A.M. to tell me something too important to wait until a more reasonable hour ("Hey, Mom, remember that show we watched with the bird? The bird's name was Papaya") and ask me what we are going to do that day. If it sounds like I am complaining that is only because I am. It turns out sleep deprivation also causes irritability. I both look forward to and dread bed time in equal measures. I think I have made my point. Now if you will excuse me I am going to eat lunch before my cookie gets cold.

The Babies R Us Incident, Part II

You think that is the end of the Babies R Us fiasco? That, my friends, is only the beginning. Aiden refused to let me get his coat on, so I carried him outside sans winter gear. It was January in Chicago. If you thought I got disapproving looks inside the store, you should have seen the looks I got when carrying my 32 pound, screaming, coatless child like a football and stuffing him in the car. By now my goal of getting a stroller on sale has changed into a goal of fleeing the scene before onlookers can copy down my license number for the DCFS report. I successfully get both kids contained in the car. By the grace of God, Elliott has gone back to sleep. I start the car and reach into my extremely organized diaper bag for my phone to call my husband and have a “Wait until you hear what YOUR kid did” moment. Are you laughing at the thought of my diaper bag actually being organized or that I would do such a thing to my hard working husband? Well, the joke was on me because my cell phone was not in the bag. Or in  my coat. Or in the car. At this point, I had had it and I may have muttered, “Oh my God!” under my breath. Well, Aiden chose this moment to regain his hearing and listen to me and he told me in a calm voice, “We don’t say ‘Oh my God’, Mom”. I snapped, “I AM PRAYING!”, and got my two kids back out of the car to go retrieve my cell phone from the nursing room. Yes, I did consider leaving it there, but losing a cell phone these days is as debilitating as losing an arm, so back to the scene of the crime we returned. At least I was able to get Aiden’s coat on this time. I made my way to the nursing room in the back of the store being careful to avoid eye contact. I begin frantically searching the changing table, couch, and floor to no avail. Aiden chooses this moment to say, “Mom, your cell phone is in the pocket of your sweat shirt”. Now he tells me.
The good news is that by this point I had regained my cell phone and Aiden had regained his sanity, while the other customers seemed to have vacated the premises for what I am sure were unrelated reasons. I shamelessly reclaimed my purchases (hey, I am not one to forgo a sale) and got out alive. I hope that damn stroller is worth the effort and I hope the foster parents have Curious George prerecorded on their DVR for their own well being.

The Babies R' Us Incident, Part I

It took me some time to venture out in public after Elliott was born. He came in to the world at the peak of “the worst flu season in decades” according to 20/20 (hey, that’s a credible source) and in the middle of a Chicago winter. You don’t need a media source to describe that one. I was spoiled by Aiden’s June birth; the freedom to leave my house is very essential to me. Admittedly I did not remain inside the entire eight weeks that my pediatrician recommended, mostly because I didn’t want my family to starve. Well, okay, my cabin fever was the main motivator, but my family starving came in at a close second. Somewhere around the six week mark (okay, fine five) Babies R Us was having a ONE WEEK ONLY sale on the exact Graco Sit and Stand double stroller which I was coveting. I told you, desires change with motherhood. As you can understand, I had no choice but to go to Babies R Us and test out this stroller to see if it would indeed accommodate my preschooler and infant. Babies R Us also has a nursing room, so no problem there!

We arrive at Babies R Us and Elliott decides that he is hungry for the second time that hour. Okay, so my vision of him sleeping through the trip didn’t come to fruition (does it ever?) but I have a nursing room at my disposal. While in the nursing room I put Curious George on via smart phone to entertain Aiden (yes, I am one of those moms) and get as comfortable as possible on the plastic couch. When Elliott finishes I change him and retrieve my phone from Aiden so that I can finish (start) my shopping. This is when all hell breaks loose. A one year old throwing a tantrum is cute, a two year old throwing a tantrum is aggravating, and a three and a half year old throwing a tantrum could scare Alfred Hitchcock. Not one to be interrupted, Aiden said, “I want to watch a SHOW!” I calmly explain that we are done with shows and Mommy’s phone is put away. After repeating this conversation several times while trying to stuff a red faced, screaming Elliott back into his hated car seat Aiden did something that he hadn’t done (at least not in public) in a long time: he threw himself on the floor and continued yelling, “ I     want    TO    WATCH    A    SHHHHHOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!” with each word increasing about ten decibels. I walked around the nursing room bouncing Elliott, trying to reason with Aiden, and waiting for DCFS to burst through the doors. I was hoping that I could get both boys calm enough to rejoin society.

Finally, I was able to escape the nursing room. Elliott had somehow managed to go to sleep and Aiden suddenly decided that he wanted to look at strollers. “Well, I handled that” I thought confidently as I held a subdued Aiden by the arm and loaded my cart with diapers and wipes and test drove the stroller. Happily Aiden was able to get in and out of the “big kid” seat easily while the car seat locked onto the front of the stroller. I grab the card for the stroller, planning to have it assembled and put in my car. Hey, I have the upper body strength of a kitten. Ha, this shopping trip was going to be a success after all. I can handle this two kid thing with my pride in tack, what is so hard?

You know this is not the end of the story, don’t you? As I near the checkout I see two long lines. As an aside, Babies R Us has the most inefficient checkout procedures in existence. I mean, come on, this is a place where people shop with babies. No problem, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Oh wait, that is the evil gleam in my preschooler’s eyes as he spots a fake shaving set conveniently located in the direct path of the checkout line. You are killing me, Babies R Us! Aiden grabs said toy and attempts to put it in the cart, apparently concluding that his stellar behavior would make me want to buy it for him, or that I had lost my mind by this point and would not notice. I return the toy to the shelf and explain that he does not get rewarded for bad behavior. He puts it back in the cart. I put it back on the shelf. He takes it off of the shelf, lets out a shriek that wakes Elliott, and runs around the display case. I manage to catch him while Elliott begins his own chorus of shrieking. Finally my three year old throws himself on the floor in the front of the store thrashing like a fish out of water and screaming, “I WANT TO WATCH A SHOW!!!!!!” Wait, I thought this tantrum was about the toy? Did I mention that Babies R us was crowded? Do I even have to describe the looks I got while my infant wailed in cart and my three year old flailed on the floor? What did I do? I did what any confident, independent, put together mother of two would do. I abandoned my cart and fled the store.

Age Old Annoyance

I have covered the fact that I no longer fit in a Starbucks and the changes becoming a mother will make to your definition of “stopping at the store”. The next often unexpected, almost universal, and highly annoying change motherhood will bring is one of the most unpleasant. This phenomenon is even more unpleasant that blowout diapers, projectile spit up, 3:00 A.M. wake up calls, and pen on the walls put together. Here it goes: when you become a mother everyone will be in your business and complete strangers who just laid eyes on your child five seconds ago will be able to tell you exactly where you went wrong and how to fix it. We have all been on the receiving end of a few dirty looks when our baby lets out a shriek in the middle of mass or our toddle throws himself on the floor in the front of a crowded Babies R Us (more on that later). Unless you drug your kids and/or stay locked in your house for the first eighteen years of their lives you have to learn to ignore those looks and go about your life.  It is much more difficult (although not impossible) to ignore commentary.

We mothers are up against a lot these days. Before you have even decorated the nursery everyone has an opinion on what you should do with your child and how you can be the best mother. Breastfeed, bottle feed, co sleep, cry it out, go to work, stay home, holding your baby will spoil him, putting your baby down will lead to an attachment disorder….. Is your head spinning yet? When well meaning advice comes from family and friends it can be slightly irritating but understandable and sometimes even desired. When random strangers decided to advise or even scold a sleep deprived mother holding a fresh cup of hot coffee, well, things could get ugly.

I had such an experience just the other day at Aiden’s preschool. I signed Aiden out of class and he immediately asked for an apple. Being a good mom who likes to promote healthy eating I took him upstairs to the cafeteria to purchase said apple. Coincidentally this same cafeteria also sells a variety of coffee products, but that is beside the point. Since my full time live in trilingual nanny is in Europe (aka my imagination) I also had Elliott. I am holding a quiet but awake Elliott while Aiden chomps into his apple. Out of nowhere an elderly lady swoops in, gets in Elliott’s face and tells him he is sooo cute. Harmless, right? Then she comments that he looks tired to which I politely respond, “Mmmhmmm, he is getting tired”. Then the lady moves even CLOSER to Elliott (pet peeve alert: people who have no concept of personal space) and says, “Ohhh, you poor little thing! That is sooo mean and wrong of your mommy to drag you all over town when you are sooo tired!”. 

Seriously lady? How do I even respond to that? 

First of all, I am at a preschool at three in the afternoon, not a crack house at eleven P.M. Secondly, I think picking my son up from preschool is slightly better parenting then, say, abandoning him there. Thirdly, I am not sure that driving to preschool counts as running all over town. I had no response in the moment, however. What would you have said? In hindsight I could have turned to the man accompanying her and said, “It is so wrong of your mean wife to embarrass you in public”. I also could have said, “Oh don’t worry, this is our last stop before hitting the casinos. The slot machines always put him to sleep”. I have to get better at thinking on my feet. This was not the first comment I have received from a stranger and it won’t be the last, so I am sure I will get my chance to practice.  For now I have to get Aiden from preschool. On second thought, maybe I will just leave him there today. He always wants to push the buttons on the slot machines.