Recap 10/29

1. I don’t think it’s weird to catch lunch all by myself at a restaurant, but apparently my husband and mother do.

2. Having the swing in the office makes it 100% easier to post when a baby refuses to nap.  (And he’s adorable.)

3. All three sons make great skeletons.

4. Talking to The Husband, who’s all the way in London, makes my day.  Is that corny or what?

5. Talking to other moms of girls, I’m learning boys are completely different.  Ah, the Y chromosome.

6. Aidan has the roll of the house.

7. Assertive-training books written in the ’70s for women don’t always apply to women of the 20-teens.  (Example: Assertive exercise: open a checking account.  Um, done and done and done and done and done and done.  Right.)

8.  Someone explain to me why I can’t get my house clean, catch-up with blogs, do a few new projects and such when I have my evenings free of spending time with The Husband.  Nothing is getting done here!

9. Um, so Halloween is this Sunday and the boys’ costumes are not finished yet.

10. Neither are the sugar cookies, but the dough was made two days ago.  (Yeah, this isn’t like me either.)

Recap 10/22

1. I suck at resolutions.  (Any one see any comments I made this week, neither did I.)

2. The Husband is going London Tuesday.  (I know.  I’m torn between jealousy and smugness.)

3. I’m treating my third child like I should have my first.  (I’m making tons of mistakes.)

4.  The Office reruns are quickly becoming my favorite thing to do at night.  (I just discovered it last season; I know; I’m slow.)

5. There was a fucking scorpion in my kids’ bedroom.  A FUCKING SCORPION!  (Sorry about the language.  But it wa a fucking scorpion in my kids’ bedroom!)

6. Evan has ordered 2 sisters.  (Not one but two.)

7. Sean insists he already HAS a sister.  (We cannot convince him otherwise.)

8. I finally got to wear jeans and a cute three-quarter sleeve shirt.  (I look adorable.)

9. I completed another six weeks of parenting class.  (I’m almost an expert!)

10. So if I have a wedding to attend late November, when should I get the dress?  (I have a couple in mind, but I don’t know which one I’ll take.)

Blanks

I used to have this brilliant system that kept me from ever having writer’s block.  And it worked . . . brilliantly. 

And I’ll let you in on the system.  Ssshhh.  It’s secret.

Lean closer.

Write it down.

I wrote down every funny incident, conversation, and moment.  I was always in my elbows in stories and posts.  And it was awesome.

Until I stopped writing everything down.  And now I forget all those wonderful, funny moments.  And I don’t seem to have any inspiration to write down brilliant posts.  Not to mention the time to write them or read the more brilliant posts of others.

So I’m going to start writing everything down again.

Then I’m going to order an extra hour or two to my day.

Decisions, decisions

Halloween is creeping up, and my boys are being seduced by to many choices.

Evan’s choices:

A zombie.

A viking.

A warrior.

A knight.

Dr. Facilier.

A skeleton.

A pumpkin.

Sean’s choices:

Dr. Facilier.

A zombie.

Dr. Zombot.

A skeleton.

A vampire AND a skeleton.

A vampire AND a skeleton AND a pumpkin.

Yes, Mom, it WOULD be easier to just pick out costumes for them.  But would be the fun of that?

Steps needed to build a crib

1. How does one convince The Husband to help clean the master bedroom so that we have room to build the crib that Aidan so desperately needs in yesterday?  Key word: convince.  Not nag.  Convince.

2. Then there is the need to get said crib out of the garage, without dropping it on my foot.

3. But that would entail moving boxes.  And dealing with the honey that I accidentally dropped and broke the jar over two months ago.

Does any one have any suggestions getting honey off of a garage floor?  Without wetting all the boxes?

4.  Then we have to build the crib, which is a two-man job.  Preferably a husband and wife team that will nag, criticize, and wonder why they are still married when the other one is obviously an idiot who can’t follow directions.  Yes, my parents did build my crib for me when I was pregnant with Evan.

5. Did I mention I need to replace the mobile that Sean broke in his excitement to be able to stand in the crib and grab those cute little puppies?

6. Maybe it would be easier to just let Aidan sleep with me in bed until he’s ready for a twin.

7. Obviously, I’m highly delusional.  And 4am tomorrow, I will wonder how the hell do I get The Husband to clean his f-ing stuff up or should I toss it in the home office.

Check please

Evan had his first field trip this year.  The kindergartners went to the sheriff department station, a grocery store, and a pizza joint, where each child got to make his or her own pizza to eat. 

Since Aidan is still attached at the breast, I had to sit this one out.  I know, bummer.  So one of the mom’s related this story to me.

She was supervising the kids in washing their hands, thinking Wow, what a cute place; I should bring the family here.

Evan: Hey!  Look at that bug!

Recap 10/08

1. I hate mosquitos!

2. I planning a vendetta against them.

3. I hate when the boys refuse to nap and drive me crazy and keep me from the only source of chocolate in the house, a Moon Pie.  F- this.  I’ll be back.

4. It’s amazing what a little chocolate will due to one’s mood.

5. Of course, Evan shows signs of illness when his classmates are dropping like flies around him.

6. Guess how many bottoms need to be wiped during a 40 minute sells call.  Go ahead and guess.

7. I’m sure I said this before, but I’m putting in an official request for a longer day.

8. I think we need to put up the crib.  Aidan is the length of the bassinet.

9. Sean needs company while he has a bowl movement or he sings.

10. After hearing about the wonderful food in Vegas, I’ve decided once Aidan is weaned, The Husband and I are going for a couple’s weekend.

Playdate

It was Sean’s first playdate.  And really it was mine too.  As I talk with the other moms at the Evan’s school at drop-off and pick-up, Sean has become friends with a little boy his age named Gavin.

Last week:

Gavin’s Mom: Gavin, we have to leave to take you to school.

Gavin: Mommy!  Can I stay and play with my best friend Sean?

Who can say no to that?  So they stayed a little longer, and Gavin’s Mom and I decided on a playdate for yesterday.

The boys had fun.  The moms had fun as we got to talk to an actual adult and she got to tell me all her excellent plans for her Halloween parties.  Soon time passed, and we had to feed our boys and put them down for naps.

As I loaded up Aidan and finished my conversation with the other mom, the boys ran around an olive tree.  All of a sudden, Gavin pulled down his pants and started peeing on the olive tree.

Me: Oh my.

Gavin’s mom turned around, horrified.

Then I started laughing.

She started laughing.

Then Gavin started shaking his hips, playing with the stream of urine.  We only laughed harder.  Gavin finished and pulled up his pants.

Me: If that’s not a boy thing, I don’t know what is.

Gavin’s mom: I blame it on my husband.  He taught Gavin he could be outside in hopes to make potty training more fun.

Me: Like I said.  It’s a guy thing.

And then I proceeded to explain The Penis Rules and the direct violation of Penis Rule 3.

Understanding God

It was barely raining as we drove to Evan’s school.  Then it stopped.

Sean: Who turned off rain?!  Mommy!  Turn it on now!

Evan: God turned off the rain.

Sean: Oh!  He turn it on now?!

As soon as we got out of the car, God turned back on the rain, and I, being the crazy mom that I am, allowed my sons to enjoy it in all its glory.  Sean got to relish it more because he didn’t have to go to school and he was wearing his fireman’s boots to splash in the mud puddles.

We left the school with a happy, muddy Sean.

Sean: Mommy!  God turned off rain!

Me: Yes.

Sean: Where is he?!

Me: Um-

Sean: He hiding behind the mountains?!

Me: Well, He’s everywhere.

Sean: Oh!  He invisible!

Me: Yes.

Sean: And He hiding behind the mountains!

Later we picked up my mom to drag her to story time with us.

Sean: Grandma!  God turn off rain!  And He invisible!

Now all we have to do is teach him transubstantiation and he has all the makings of a good Catholic.

The shadow in me

This summer I learned that I couldn’t do everything on my own, that I had some major issues (sh*t is what I like to call it) and I had to own them.  Though I had known for over a year, I accepted I was co-dependent and I needed to go to Co-Dependents Anonymous

It started when my best friend insisted I read Co-Dependent No More, and I learned then that I had some real issues.  I had already realized that I couldn’t keep obsessively worrying over The Husband and where he was and what he was doing.  I stopped nagging him 21 months ago and gave him room to breathe.  But I didn’t tell him what I was doing or why, and he took it to mean I no longer cared, which got the ball rolling to the sh*t storm we are dealing with right now.  But that’s not what I want to talk about now.

Some of you might have already hit the link, maybe you didn’t.  But I think a co-dependent is someone who believes to be happy he or she has to make sure all the people around him/her are happy and safe.  The co-dependent knows best.  Damnit. So the co-dependent tries to manipulate people and situations to “protect” his/her loved ones.  Those loved ones don’t want to be controlled and resent the co-dependent, who then, in turn, feels resented, used, and hurt.  Then the co-dependent tries to control more.  It‘s a vicious cycle.

At first I wanted to know who twisted me into this deformed lover.

Society.  Our society has been telling women for generations to be successful, happy, and a valuable member of society, she had to produce a happy, healthy, functioning  family.  Behind every great man is a great woman.  Those children are so polite and smart; it must be because of the mother.  Oh, he killed three people; what kind of mother did he have?  Yup, women are responsible for all that is their family. 

Yet I read many of you, and you don’t have the craziness that’s in me.  So there must be other factors.

Like my mother.  And her mother.  Controlling women.  They give and give and give.  And if we are not sufficiently grateful, if we decide to ignore their advice, then we are foolish or horrible or stupid or too young to know better.  I’m watching my mom push away my brother, and slowly she’s beginning to push me away with all her well-meaning advice.  Her constant, loud, frequent, bossy advice.  My aunts and uncle all have issues, and I believe it stems from my grandma’s need to help her children be happy and safe.

But there’s plenty of blame to go around.

How about that emotionally abusive relationship in college?  The one where my boyfriend was passive-aggressive with time.   He tried to manipulate me to become a script writer for him.  (I wanted to write novels.)  He once told me I was getting fat from all the desserts I ate.  (Hardly, and I got up and grabbed three more.)  He got upset with me because we took a class together and I wouldn’t only study with him.  (I’m sorry, I don’t settle for B’s or C’s.)

Of course, my college counselor pointed out I was more than willing to cut myself up and put myself into a neat little package for the boyfriend without being asked.  Ugh.

And then there’s The Husband.  He brought his own craziness into the mix.  Which made me crazier.  Which made him crazier.  It’s a vicious cycle.

I thought about this the first week I started going to CoDA, and I realized that if I laid blame on someone, I would start to absolve myself from my actions.  Like an alcoholic, I was responsible for my actions, even if someone had poisoned me into not knowing how to truly love and how to be truly me.  It didn’t matter.  I was responsible, and I had to start living responsibly.

I’m co-dependent.  If I call enough and yell enough, The Husband will want to come home and be with me.  If I argue with my mom enough, she’ll see things my way.  If I keep my boys safe in the way I see things are safe, they will be safe.  If I make everything even between The Husband and me, I’ll have what I want and need.

But it doesn’t work that way.  I have to let The Husband and my mom be who they are, think the way they want, say the things they want.  I’ll have to slowly let go of my boys so they can experience the world and they won’t ever have the need to run away because I’m trying to control them.  I have to figure out what I need and want to be a healthy, happy, whole person.

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