Friday, July 22, 2011

We Can't Do It All

That is what we are told as Moms, that we need to take a time out for ourselves, try to lower our expectations on what a "clean" house is, don't do everything in one day, ask for help if we need it, etc etc etc..  Maybe for some moms out there, all these things are possible, but for some of us, we have people in our lives that just don't get it and make it a little more difficult for us.  There are days that I have so much to do that I feel so overwhelmed that I don't do anything.  Instead of breaking things down, I see the whole picture and tell myself that I will never get all these things done and just kind of stress out.  I think it is since I am a work at home mom (I love that title, better then sahm), there are these expectations that since I am at home, I have so much time that there is no reason not to get everything done.  (hahaha)  Excuse me, but cooking, cleaning, running errands, paying bills, getting and putting up groceries, doing laundry, folding and putting up clothes, and others things that come up each day, is a job, I just don't get paid for it.  All of these things are suppose to get done while taking care of two kids, one in which clings on to me for dear life from the moment she is awake.  (separation anxiety, teething, who knows)  So trying to get all these things done while taking care of 2 kids and keeping them entertained at the same time, is not always easy.  If you have kids you cannot expect your house to be clutter free or have a house that is spotless.  Even if you can afford a cleaner, most of us feel guilty that we have to get a cleaner because we should be able to do it all.  I hate the fact that when we have company, I hear my husband tell people "Oh sorry about the mess..."  We have 2 kids, of course there are going to be toys everywhere!  What do you expect, the little miss and mister to only pull out one toy at a time and then go, "Oh my, I want to play with that one, let me put this one back now..." hahahaha, yeah right!  This is what happens:  Before company comes over Mommy puts toys up in a basket, Mommy turns her back for a couple minutes and cleans up something else, Mommy comes back and lovely children have dumped all the toys back on the floor because they had this deviant plan all along.  So Mommy goes "F*ck it", and goes into the bathroom for her "time out."  I also get things like this from my sympathetic husband, "My mom had 4 kids, if she could do it, so can you and you only have 2 kids."  I ONLY have 2 kids?   "I had the kids all day, I don't see what the big deal is."  Ok, having the kids all day while you sit on the couch and watch TV is NOT THE SAME THING THAT I DO!  Ok, I feel a little better.
Unlike popular belief, we do not sit at home all day and watch Dr. Phil while eating bon bons.  Do they even still make bon bons? I don't even remember the last time I actually sat on the couch and watched an entire program by myself without worrying or doing something for the kids.  It also doesn't help that when my mom comes to visit, she says things like this in front of my husband, "Well I worked and still had time to clean my house" or "Oh my gosh, you cleaned."  I have had plenty of issues with my MIL, but one thing that I can say is that she at least stands up for me when it comes to the house and taking care of the kids.  She always is understandable and puts her son in his place, and she is the one that had the 4 kids and little me only has the 2! My mom should be the one on my side, not making a case for my "better" half.  I know I am not the only one in this position, because I hear from other moms I know that they are in similar situations.  Their husbands, including mine, think that since we are being supported, they don't need to lift a finger and if they do we should be rubbing their feet and praising them for their "extra" effort of taking out the trash, changing a pee diaper(not even a poopy one), or "babysitting" the kids for us.  WHAT?  Since when is is called "babysitting" when it is your own kids?  ARGH! 
So what I have realized while writing this is maybe these are also my own expectations since I put up with it.  Instead of complaining about it and trying to do the impossible, I should just say "Screw this sh*t" and when things get overwhelming, sit on the couch, watch a pre-recorded episode of Cheaters (ok I really don't watch that) while eating fattening ice cream, put the kids in the other room(safely of course) and have them watch Yo Gabba Gabba.  I know you are gasping either because of the forbidden putting your kids in front of the TV (they will be scarred for life) or you are gasping because of Yo Gabba Gabba.  Is it just me or are those characters a little "off?"  Oh well, my son loves them and it is educational.  Anywho, at least I got this off my chest and my husband can live another day!

Monday, July 18, 2011

My son saying the "N" word

Ok, my son is not really using that "n" word, at least not intentionally.  There is a dog in my husband's family that is named "Negra."  My hubbie is Hispanic and his entire family is mostly Spanish speaking.  The dog is black and "negra" in Spanish means black.  I don't know if anyone names their pet whitey, or blacky, or yellowy, etc. but it just doesn't sound right especially when my 3 year old calls its name.  You can imagine a sweet little boy chasing a little doggie going "Come here, Negra!  Negra, Negra, Negra!"  It doesn't sound like it is suppose to.  Every time we are outside or at an event where they take the dog, I cringe when he calls that dog's name.  I am just waiting for an outsider to give me a dirty look or  come up to me and slap me in the face for allowing my son to use that kind of word.  So far, no one has done either but I don't really look around to see if anyone is giving me that "look."  Since we live in an area that is mostly Hispanic, that might be the reason we don't get the dirty looks because someone  might hear my little boy and at first think as Dave Chappelle puts it "oh my God, that is racist," but then look at him chasing a black dog and then think, "Oh, he is saying Negra which is black, whew!"  I am not Hispanic and did not grow up with hearing dogs being called blacky or "Negra" so I just can't fathom calling a pet those names since it doesn't sound right.  What happened to the cute names like Spot or Fluffy?  Those don't sound questionable do they?  I'm sure even those names could be turned around and offend someone out there too.  Maybe someone who has a skin condition might not  like Spot or Fluffy might offend a person going bald, but c'mon, "Negra," that sounds like the stomach turning "N" word when you hear it from a preschooler.  This reminds me of the time I was in kindergarten.  School was over for the day and I started running and skipping down the big hill that is outside the elementary school.  My dad was at the bottom of the hill waiting for me with a big grin on his face as he was looking at his precious little girl happily singing a song that I had heard so many times before.  It goes a little something like this.... "Went to the river and I couldn't get across, jumped on a N***er cuz I thought it was a hoss,"  I'm sure there were other disgusting words to that song that I can't seem to remember because from that day, I think my Dad removed them from my brain.  My dad's big grin turned into an expression of "Oh my God, what the hell are you singing and why are you singing it in front of all these other parents who are going to look at me and beat me down?"  My dad looked at me with sweat pouring down his face and asked "Where did you hear that song!!?" and I replied "Papa."  That is what I called my grandpa(my mom's dad, but I'm sure my dad's dad was equally racist-just didn't sing songs to me) My dad says "Well I'm going to have a talk with Papa, you are to never sing that song again."  Then I'm sure he explained to me why.  My Dad always taught me to treat everyone the same and to never think that I was better then anyone because I was white.  There were other lessons too about race and other things, but my point is I was not raised to think or say these types of things.  So now as an adult, hearing my son shout out a derogatory word like that immediately sends shivers down my spine.  Plus, what doesn't help is when he says the dog's name, there are other people around that laugh and think it is funny.  Ok, so I know it isn't just me and I am not being sensitive about it, he really does make the word sound not the way it was intended.  I mean, for pete's sake (never thought I would use that phrase in my life), can't they just call the dog, "Doggie?"  That is what you call the dog anyway, "Here doggie doggie." 

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Releasing the Anger

OK, so my anger towards my parents, especially my mom comes and goes.  I have so much resentment towards her because of my child molestation. 
I don't remember when the molestation started, but I know when it stopped, I was six.  I remember because the principal pulled me from class and my cousin was in his office.  My cousin, really the hero for it stopping, told the principal that he was being molested by our uncle.  Uncle "Perv" is what I now call him.  In that confession, my cousin also told the principal that I was also being molested.  I denied that I was being molested  for reasons I am still not sure of, but did state that my cousin was. Because of this, my uncle was arrested and eventually put in jail.  Maybe part of the reason I denied it is because before this happened, I told my Grandma (that is where it happened, my uncle lived there and she "babysat" my brother, cousin, and I and we would spend the night) and all I got out of her was "oh he wouldn't do that."  Later, I told my parents.  I remember sitting down with them and said that uncle so and so was touching me down there.  I was a little girl, I couldn't explain at the time that he was putting his hands down my pants and doing gross things.  I don't want to elaborate too much, but you can imagine among other things he would do that I shall not name.  I don't remember their reaction because I was crying, all I know is that it didn't stop.  I was still being "watched" by my grandma and all my dad said was that I couldn't go on his motorcycle anymore.  So you think he was molesting me on his motorcycle?  Ok... so it continued until that fateful day when my cousin rescued me, not my parents, not my grandma, but my 9 year old cousin.  Over the years I learned that they thought that maybe my uncle accidentally touched me, like brushing against me or something.  That I was a paranoid little girl and weren't sure to believe me or not.  Ok, did you ever think that maybe I was paranoid because  my uncle was taking me in the back room while my grandma was sleeping and doing those nasty things to me?  Even if they weren't sure, why risk it and put me in the same situation?  I guess because they needed a babysitter and instead of finding another one, it probably wasn't as bad as I was making it out to be right?  Even him being in jail didn't stop him from talking to me.  I was still being watched by my grandma after he was in jail and he would call from jail and she would put me on the phone with him because he wanted to talk to his baby.  How sick is that?  Then after he was out of jail (he did 7 years), my parents invited him over for Thanksgiving dinner.  The only reason he didn't come over was because I overheard my parents talking and started crying.  I didn't want to see that perv and all my mom said was "Why don't you like  my family?"  Ok, let me see here, because they are crazy sick people? If you were raped, would you want to see your rapist at Thanksgiving dinner?  Then another time I went with my family to see my grandparents and he was going to be there and I was told, "He will only be there for a little while."  So basically just suck it up and deal with it.  I spent the whole time in the kitchen avoiding him while he was in the living room.  I have all this resentment and I don't know how to release the anger.  I am not really mad at my uncle, he is a perv and I have accepted that.  Never in my life again, ever, but I don't hold any anger towards him.  What is worse then being molested is nobody believing you or doing anything about it.  I think I hold the resentment towards my mom because it was her brother and she is suppose to have protective instincts like a mother bear and not let anyone hurt her babies.  After telling my parents as an adult exactly how I felt, my dad seemed remorseful and would have done things differently.  My mom just didn't "get" it and I have the feeling that if she could have done it over, she would have done the same thing.  Her excuse was that she was a young parent (she was 27 at the time) and wasn't sure how to handle it.  To this day, she still keeps in contact with my uncle which boggles my mind. I try to have a relationship with her and most of the time we get along fine, but there is always this wall that is between us and I don't think I will ever put it down.  I heard a quote on Oprah before that "forgiveness is not about letting the person back in your life.  Forgiveness is about giving up the hope that the past could have been different."  Letting go of the anger is a constant battle that I hope one day I will win.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

If You Look for Me

The smell of chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven
An opened can of tab sitting in the fridge
The scent of caress soap lingering in the air
These are things I hold dear from her, my angel, my guiding force, my Grandma
The passing has been awhile now, but I feel her everyday
She speaks to me in my ear, always present, always near
“If you look for me, look at the sky, look up high and you will see”
“I am the brightest star shining down, looking at you as you look at me”
As I gaze out into the stars, it comforts me to know she is there
She is such a source of strength, of guidance, and care
Though she is not here in the same sense as I am, she is ever here in my mind
My memories keep her alive, as if she is still holding my hand
Telling me stories, making me laugh, giving advice
I miss her so, but I know I will see her in the next life
Baking chocolate chip cookies
Sipping on a can of tab
Smelling like caress soap
These and much more are the fingerprints she has left on me
Marked by the trails of her existence forever etched in my heart
My angel, my guiding force, my Grandma
She speaks to me in my ear, always present, always near
“If you look for me, look at the sky, look up high and you will see”
“I am the brightest star shining down, looking at you as you look at me.”

Friday, July 1, 2011

A Whole Bunch of Poo

Oh my, what is it with kids and poop?  Is it really that fascinating?  Why can't they smell what we do and be disgusted?  Those and more are questions that I have asked myself because of some recent poo incidents that have occurred in my household.  A few days ago, I was taking a nap with my son and woke up to realize that my baby girl has been napping for quite awhile and I haven't heard a peep.  So, I decide to enter her room and right away as usual, she is right there with a big ol' grin, jumping anxiously in her crib waiting for me to pick her up.  I do what I usually do, smile and grab a hold of her, but I soon realize something is wrong, stinky wrong.  I look in her crib, her diaper is off, streaks of poo smeared on her sheet, her mouth lined with brown stuff, her hands and fingernails with a chunk of it, and her left foot also had it as if she was stepping in it.  Right away, I change my friendly demeanor into a shriek of "OH NO, GROSS, eww, eww, eww, eww!"  I must say though that I did handle it alot better than when it happened with my son when he was a baby.  I think with him if I recall correctly, my reaction was something like, "HONEY, GET IN HERE NOW, HURRAY I NEED HELP, OH MY GOD!"  Of course my "honey" thought I was having a heart attack or something and was running upstairs with the phone getting ready to call 911.  I have never seen anyone so relieved to find out it was just crap thrown on the walls and my son using his poo as a shampoo in his hair.  So what is the fascination with poo?  Is it cuz of the texture, sometimes lumpy, other times smooth like peanut butter?  Is it fun to play with like a wet version of playdoh? How can they taste it and not puke?
Well my little girl is still an angel and my son has turned out fine so far (he's under 5), so I guess there are worse things they could get into, right?  (I'm trying to think of some things)
Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention the worst part.  As I picked her up and was about to kiss her on the back of the head out of habit, I quickly stopped myself because as I smelled the poop in her hair and noticed there were two little pieces of green stuff clinging to her hair strands.  Then I remembered, she had peas as a part of her lunch earlier that day.  BARF!