Psychic Block

Back in college, I noticed a strange phenomenon that I had.  After a particularly grueling week of tests and/or papers, my brain kind of shut down the next week.  I couldn’t motivate myself to do any thinking.  I couldn’t read; I couldn’t study; I couldn’t write.  God forbid I had to do anything that next week because I would have to pull from the very depths of my being to do Any.  Thing.  After a few weeks of this habit, I realized what was going on.  I called it my Psychic Block. 

I learned to work around it.  I manipulated my classes and work to compensate.  I vegged the weekend after a hard week, so that I wouldn’t fall into the malaise the next week at work.  It’s why I demanded to go honeymoon somewhere we had already been.  Even now, the Psychic Block pops up a day after a hard day of mothering.

As I talked to my BFF the other night, I realized I had another Psychic Block on my hands.  I can’t bring myself to read hours and hours of blog post like I used to.  I love my favorite bloggers.  I love reading about their lives, their dreams, their families.  I often think of them as friends.  I love reading new people.  I love learning from all these amazing people.  And yet, for the last couple months, I can only force myself to read a little at a time.

And there’s a reason.  Some of you might remember me talking about fighting demons.  And I still am.  My marriage is on the rocks, hanging by a thread, deep in a coma.  And when I read about my favorite bloggers and their happy lives, it hurts my soul.  I think I might be jealous.  Happy for you all but jealous. 

I don’t want to go into it too much now.  I’m sure I’ll talk about it when I know which way it is all going down.  I’m trying to take responsibility for my end of things.  I’ve realized I’ve made mistakes, and I’m fixing them.  I’m realizing how much I love my husband and how much I would like our marriage to last.  But it might not work out.  He doesn’t know what he wants, and he has inflicted severe damage on our relationship.  I do know if we stick together, we’ll have to reinvent our marriage and work on some major defects in ourselves.  I’m ready for the challenge; he’s not. 

Every day I wake up alone to a baby cooing and two boys playing, waiting for me to feed them and take care of them, waiting for me to give them the signal to jump on the inflatable mattress their dad sleeps on in the home office.  All day I play the happy mother, trying to keep myself from getting locked in my head, remembering good and bad memories, playing future good and bad scenarios, analyzing his ever word and action, questioning his motives, crafting a thousand speeches.  Like I said a couple of weeks ago, there’s all kinds of crazy in my head.  On top of that, I’m trying hard to keep myself sane and healthy and becoming better than I am.  Every night I fall asleep alone listening to the sounds of baby breathing and praying for answers, strength, and wisdom.

So my friends, don’t give up on me.  I’ll get around to reading and commenting more and more.  Every day is a new day.  And a Psychic Block does not live forever.

Recap 8/27

1. Evan still loves school, but I’m betting it’s because of the social element.

2. I represent destroyer of cartoons to Sean.  Daddy, obviously, is the savior.

3. To Makers of chocolate chips: STOP REDUCING THE AMOUNT YOU PUT IN BAGS!  We want MORE chocolate chips in our cookies not less!  Yes, I’m on to you.

4. Want to make Rice Krispie Treats tastier but less healthy?  Add Milk Duds.

5. I’ve been spoiled by having The Husband here all summer.  Now he’s going away for two weeks.  Ugh!

6. The Husband has introduced the boys to Boomerang.  We have a rebellion against educational cartoons.

7. I think Aidan just may be settling into a sleep rhythm.  But I’m not holding my breath.

8. I think I’m addicted to SuperNanny.  I don’t know why.

9. Of course all the mom gatherings and parties would be when The Husband is gone.

10. Evan NEEDS an umbrella because apparently he’ll melt if rain touches his skin.  I should have known I birthed a witch.

A week with Sean

It turns out he’s as talkative as his brother and his mommy.  He followed me around the grocery store, talking my ear off.

Workbook, games, playing with Mommy HAS to come before cartoons.

The kid is a social eater.

He hates sandles and wants to be barefoot, but he loves his tennis shoes.

He loves to sing and mumbles when he doesn’t know the words.

And of course, it’s hard to deny those big brown eyes and sparkling smile.

Heads is . . . .

I think I’ve mentioned my sons’ obsession with “Zombies vs Plants” and their desperate need to watch their dad play the game.  So after dinner, the boys started begging their dad to play.

Evan: Let’s play zombies!

Sean: Come on!  It’ll be fun!

The Husband: Daddy has to work.

Sean: Peeeeeaaaaaasssssssssse!

Evan: Let’s play “Head’s and Memorials!”  Heads will be we will play Zombies.  Memorials will be you go to work.

The Husband: Ok.

Evan flipped a penny.  It came up tails.

Evan: That didn’t work.  Let’s do it again.

Evan flipped the coin again, and it landed on tails.L

Evan: Let me do it again.

This time Evan held the coin a foot above the floor, head side up.  Then he dropped it. I saw the tails.  Evan scooped it up.

Me: Evan what did it land on?

Evan: The floor!

Me: (laughing) No.  What side landed up?

Evan: Heads!  Let’s play Zombies!

The Husband: Let’s play then.

I laughed harder.

Me: Evan.

Evan: (sighed) Let’s switch.  Heads will be Daddy goes to work, and memorials will be Zombies. 

Evan dropped the coin.

Evan: MEMORIALS!  Let’s go!

The meaning of mother

I just finished changing Aidan’s diaper.  He tends to have a HUGE dirty diaper every three days because the kid only poops every three days.  As I walked towards the garbage, I heard “MOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYY!  I NEED YOU TO WIPE MY BOTTOM!”  That was from the five-year old who has retreated back to having his ass wipe because a) he didn’t wipe well a few times in a row and hates itchy butt and/or b) The Husband and I are having issues which might cause a regression in Evan. 

And then I also heard, “MOMMY!  ME TOO!  WIPE MY BOTTOM!”  That would be from the three-year-old because Evan has decided nothing is better than having a poop buddy.

I sighed and ducked into the office to say to The Husband, “Mother.  Latin for butt wiper.”

Then I realized, it probably has a lot of other meanings.

Mother.  Latin for sleep deprived parent.

Mother. Greek for parent who picks up dirty clothes and toys.

Mother. Old English for the less fun parent.

Mother: Sanskrit for diaper changer.

Mother: Old French for cooker of distasteful foods.

Mother: Gaelic for nursemaid, chef, and battler of nightmares.

Mother: Old Germanic for fire breather.

Mother: Hebrew for baby carrier and child wrangler.

Tardy?!

I’m a first born.  Rules and authority are very important to me.  Being on time is Very Important to me.  So I freak out at any sight of lateness.  I get antsy and yell-y.  I guess I get close to becoming a rabid dog.  I’m even worse when it’s my fault.

So when I was working on some paperwork for Evan’s school (because, Of Course, I can get it done before school instead of doing it the night before) and I noticed I was already three minutes late, I got panicky.

Then I noticed Evan didn’t have shoes OR socks on.

While I was trying to get Evan to put on his socks, I grabbed Sean to sit on my lap to put on his sandles.  I noticed he was wet.

As in wet!  As in he PEED HIS PANTS!

Are you KIDDING!

So then I got yell-y.  As I tried to get Sean to strip.  And The Husband stepped in and sent Evan, Aidan, and I on our way.

But Evan’s lunch box needed a juice box and an ice pack.  my cell phone was on the other side of the room, NOT in my purse.  And where was that damn pizza form?!

And WHY AM I IN THE GARAGE WITH A BABY IN MY ARMS AND NOT IN HIS CARRIER?

I think I’m heading for an early heart attack.

After herding Evan into the car with strong, loud language, I realized The Husband had borrowed my car last night, so the keys were in the house, not clipped on my shorts.  I grabbed them and my purse and the form and jumped in the car and pulled out.

I was a street away when:

Evan: Mommy, where’s mt lunch box?

I looked in the back.  No lunch box!  I swore I grabbed it when I grabbed my purse.  I drove back.  There it was on the floor on the garage.

Me: I swear I put it on the hood with my purse when I put you guys in.

Evan: I moved it.

Great.

We were off again.  Only now there was a car diagnal in front of the gate, trying to get it open.  Idiot.  Finally, the idiot moved, so I could trigger the gate.  And of course, we missed the light.

And I resigned myself that we would be late.  On the second day of school.

Recap 8/20

1. While Evan is away at school, Sean has decided he wants to go too.

2. I’m barely ok with one child away at school.

3. The Husband is salivating at the thought of a second income once the next two are in school.

4. I could use a vacation, or at least a nap.

5. I’m still brainstorming non-nut lunches.

6. Because of the change in the household, Sean is having potty issues.  I’m not looking forward to the next trip The Husband is taking.

7. Why are California King sheets so expensive and so damn hard to find?

8. Six weeks without The Husband’s car, which the mechanics have upped the estimated cost.  There goes the weekend family trip.

9. There’s all kinds of crazy going on in my head.

10. Sean is a talker; now that Evan’s not around filling the air with his chatter.

Anti-climatic

For weeks I’ve been on the verge of tears or having an anxiety attack or both because My Baby is going to Kindergarten.  MY BABY IS GOING TO KINDERGARTEN!

Evan: Mommy, I’m not a baby!  I’m a big boy!

Me: Shhh!  Mommy’s freaking out right now.  Please don’t interrupt.

I didn’t have to go shopping because his backpack from last year was hardly touched and someone bought him a really cool pirate lunchbox.  Sure, I had to buy containers, and I’ve been scouring the web for excellent lunch ideas.  (Any one have any?)

I didn’t have tons of questions at the kindergarten orientation.  Evan has talked of nothing else since last week.

I borrowed from the Supernanny and made a morning chart with velcro so that I didn’t have to use stickers and forgetting to put said stickers on the chart.  Of course, I couldn’t lay out a plan of which should be done first because that just seemed to anal.  I let them put velcro pirate coins under each chore.

So we were up at our regular 6am.  I fed Aidan as the boys watched cartoons.  They ate as I did as I emptied the dishwasher.  Evan and Sean made their beds, got dressed, brushed their teeth, combed their teeth, and washed their faces with minimal prodding.  We even picked up toys.  I got to shower and dress; while, the boys watched more cartoons.  The Husband even got into the shower.

We arrived a little early for pictures and all the fanfare.

As I signed Evan in, I caught him walking into the classroom.

Me: Evan.  Go hug and kiss your daddy goodbye.

He turned around.  I finished signing Evan in, just to see him sneak into the classroom.

Me: Evan.  Come give me a kiss and a hug goodbye.

He dutifully came up to me and hugged and kissed me.  Then he ran off into the classroom without a look backwards.

My baby.

In kindergarten.

Sean: Mommy!  I want to go to school!  I want to go to preschool!

Sshh.  Mommy is freaking out.  Please be quiet.  And come home with me.

You might want to rethink that

I was getting ready for the day and went back into the family room in underwear and a shirt to see what the newest brotherly fight was all about.

Evan: Mommy!  How does your penis fit in there?

No one freak.  I prefer bikini underwear to thongs.

Me: Baby, girls don’t have penises.

Evan: How do they pee?

Hmmm . . . .

Me: Through their urethra.

The Husband: Just to let you know, Evan, boys pee through their urethras too.

Evan: Oh!  Mommy!  Can I cut of my penis so I can sit to pee like you?

Me: I think you might want your penis one day.

In fact, you’ll probably name it your favorite body part in eight years or so.

Evan: No.  I don’t want it.  Can I cut it off?

Me: Let’s wait until you’re a little older.

Recap 8/13

1. Oooo, it’s Friday the 13th.  But I think I knew that.

2. Which would you choose: send your husband to retrieve a laptop or watch a movie with him? (I know.  Obviously I miss the laptop, but it was the right thing to do, right?  Right?)

3. My baby is going to kindergarten next week.

4.  Evan informed me he’s not a baby.

5. Supernanny and her morning routine chart might just work.

6.  I have a hard time being all slave-driverish, so I modified it for them to choose in what order to get ready for the day.

7. This is the fourth week of forcing myself to do something out of the house without the boys and with another adult.  It’s nice to realize I have freedom.

8.  So The Husband’s car thinks it’s being stolen so it has shut off all the computers and will only speak to a certain computer which costs a grand.  I’m really starting to hate technology.

9. Sean has informed me he wants to go to school with Evan.

10.  I have a strong fear that once Aidan doesn’t want to be cuddled, I’m going to want another baby.

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