Confessions of an Unintentional Domestic Goddess

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The first decade

Ten years, a decade. The blink of an eye for some, a life time for others, literally. For me, it’s the whole drop in a bucket thing, I can’t believe ten years have gone by. My son, well, that ten years have been his lifetime, and I think it seems to be dragging by for him.

I’ve been reminiscing about my life ten years ago. You see, my son, my first-born, will be turning 10 tomorrow and it’s made me reflect on the events of that summer.

I just have to say that I never expected how becoming a mother would change me. I feel like I”m more compassionate, I think of how my decisions will effect my children before I think about how they may effect me. I never thought I could love two people so much it hurt sometimes. I never cried over those stupid Hallmark commercials, or at most movies for that matter. I feel like I”m doing a really big job, like I’m part of something bigger than myself. Every night when I say my prayers, I just ask for guidance and patience (extra!) so that I can be the best mom for my children. It is such an honor and a privilege to be their mother and I want to do everything I can to guide them and help them find the right path for them in life.

Motherhood is one of those clubs that you really can’t understand until you’ve jumped in feet first, planned or not. Kind of like trying to describe a color to someone who was born blind, words can’t really describe it.

My husband and I had been married two years when we found out we were going to be parents. We were overjoyed and couldn’t wait for his arrival. Although, when I looked at the calendar, I have to say I was less than thrilled about being pregnant in 100+ temps. I made the mistake of expressing my displeasure to an elderly lady. She paused, looked at me very pointedly and said, ‘When I was pregnant in summer, we didn’t have air conditioning.’ Um, ok, I”ll shut up now! That comment made me re-evaluate my thoughts.

Being a natural health care practitioner, I had a very definite idea of how I wanted the birth to go, and it had nothing to do with a germy hospital, needles in my back, or invasive procedures. We were going to have a nice, calm, home birth with a doula and a very experienced midwife present. We had everything planned out.

Yeah, that’s where I figured out that I really don’t have the control over my life like I thought I did. At 38 weeks, dangerously close to the end of my roundness, we discovered my boy was breech. What? We visited an OB/GYN that the midwife worked with  for an ultrasound, that confirmed what she told us. Great. So doc says, here’s what we can do: n A. schedule a hospital room to try to turn the baby (why hospital vs his office? Because many times this procedure ends up triggering labor, or worse. yay.) or B. you can try to turn the baby at home. Well, you know which one we chose. I had heard nothing good about when doctors try to turn the babies. We turned on some Beatles down low by my pelvis, I lay down on a stack of cushions so my head was lower than my feet and my husband talked to the baby and massaged my belly to help him move. Guess what! IT WORKED! We were all surprised and I was afraid to lie down in bed to go to sleep that night for fear the little beggar would flip back around!

Nope, he stayed where he was supposed to stay and about two weeks later we thought we were getting a baby. I’ll cut this short, because it’s a very long story. The abridged version is labor started Friday evening, stopped and started back on Saturday afternoon in earnest. We thought we were getting a baby. Well, that’s what we get for thinking. At 7 or 8 Sunday night, yes, that’s right I said Sunday, we finally threw in the towel and went to the hospital. My plan went right out the window. The only part of my plan that worked out the way I’d wanted it to was  the beautiful healthy baby we got to take home.

I remember so vividly that feeling of falling head over heels in love with this little person. I couldnt’ stand to put him down. I would hold him, rub his soft little head and just stare at him for hours, in complete awe and amazement at the gift God had given us. His birth really brought home to us the fact that while we may have choices in life, we arent’ really as in control of things as we thought we were. Today I look at my boy and I am so proud of him, so proud and honored to be his mother. He’s very bright and sweet, and loves to make people laugh. He’s very caring and loves animals.  I’m excited to see him as he continues to grow and change.

Happy birthday honey, I love you! Here’s hoping the next decade is as good as the first!

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Never Wake A Sleeping Mom!

This is just too funny and pretty typical of life in our house. First I just have to say I love my two little yard apes more than I ever thought I could love two people who drive me to drink!

It’s 3AM and my son, who’s nearly 10, is suddenly at my side. In a half-whisper he says, ‘Mom, I turned on my radio, can you hear it?” 

When our kids have nightmares, we tell them to turn on their radios and go back to sleep, seems reasonable enough, right? So he’s actually doing what he’s been told to.

‘Um, no honey, I was asleep.’ yeah, that’s what I”m normally doing when it’s 3AM and I”m in my bed and my eyes are closed.

‘I used the bathroom, but I didn’t flush or wash my hands because I didn’t want to wake you.’

HUH? shaking my head. ‘what? ok honey, go do what you need to do, flush and go back to bed.’

‘ok mom, I love you.’

‘love you too honey.’

Now I am  awake. And I can’t go back to sleep! GRRR

The next day, my husband asks him why he did it. If he didn’t want to wake us with the flushing of the toilet and the washing of the hands, why did he come and talk to us.

‘Mom was already awake.’

“What? No, I’m pretty sure I was asleep. Why do you think I was awake?’

‘You were coughing.’

‘Helllllooooo. coughing and awake are two completely different things!’

See, it’s just a different version of , ‘mom, are you awake?’ poke, poke. ‘mom? mom? are you awake mom?” poke poke shake. “MOM? ARE YOU AWAKE MOM?”

‘I AM NOW!!!”

So if anyone is wondering why I have bags under my eyes, look like a zombie, and I’m mainlining my coffee today,  that’s why.

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Jealous, Party of one!

I know this is not really domestically related, not all of my posts are. But I just had to write about this.

My mother is 70 now, and looks fairly good for her age. She’s got salt and pepper hair that I’ve been hounding her for years to color. I told her, and it’s really true, if she colored her hair back to it’s normal nearly black shade, she would look ten years younger. Her latest retort is “People pay a lot of money to make their hair look like mine!” Ok, mom, you just keep telling yourself that!

My mom lives in the country and the only internet connection she can get is *GASP* dial-up! Can you  imagine? OMG! It would drive me insane to have to use dial-up! I am completely spoiled by my wonderfully fast internet connection.

So, she’s over at my house today and I was on Facebook. I’ve been talking about it and how much fun I”ve had on it finding old friends that I’ve lost touch with. Because of her dial-up internet dinosaur situation, she really doesn’t do a lot. When it takes 45 minutes to upload photos, it really makes you not want to do a lot.

Since she was here, I thought I’d bring her into the digital age and set up a Facebook page for her. Not that she’ll ever use it, unless she’s at my house or my brother’s, but it’s there whenever she may want it.

It’s really sad, the high school she went to, there’s no one listed on Facebook from her school. NO ONE! It’s a small school granted, but still, they don’t live in the back hills where there’s no current culture, it’s just a small town in Missouri. Or, as she calls it, Missourah.

So, since we couldnt’ find any of her high school pals, I pulled up her college. As I scrolled down the page, there was a lovely woman, really very attractive for her 70’s. I mean, I hope I look that good when I hit that decade! What does my mom do? She makes a really sniping comment “Well, she looks as prissy as ever!” what? “Well, she was the homecoming queen. And look at her now, showing her boobs.” WHAT??? Not even close! I clicked on this woman’s profile, and it said she’d been a middle school teacher. What a great profession. Seriously, isn’t that one of the most important and yet underappreciated careers around? My mom’s next comment: “I wonder if she was teaching with her boobs hanging out.” WHAT? This lady was wearing a v-neck blouse, and it did show just a hint of cleavage, but nothing that I would consider offensive or inappropriate in any way. “Mom, her boobs are not hanging out!”   “Yes it is! See, right there!” she pointed to a lighter spot on this woman’s skin just up from the bottom of the V as if that was cleavage hanging out. It totally was not!

Ok, moving on. Obviously my mother was jealous of this woman. She was very attractive and my mom is, well, my mom.  I guess she’s attractive, but she doesn’t do much to make herself look good. She rarely wears makeup, or her version is ‘rouge’ and lipstick. And on many people it works. Plain I guess is a good word. But to hear the real venom coming from her was a little disheartening. I love my mom, but she’s a difficult one, that’s for sure. Nothing is ever good enough and if you don’t do exactly what she does, then you’re not doing it right. And even if you are doing it exactly the way she does it, you still won’t be right. I just wish she could’ve have said, “wow! She’s aged really well”, or something a little nicer, rather than be so sniping. yes, there are people around whom I didn’t get along with, but I’m old enough to be able to appreciate who they are and how life has treated them. I don’t think I’ve ever said anything as nasty as that about someone I went to school with. I’ll have to think about that. it was kind of odd coming from someone who puts so little emphasis on what she looks like.

Oh well, I guess it just shows you never really know people.

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You Call Yourself a Mother?

Ok, I’m sorry, I just have to vent for a moment.  I just got home from a quick errand that involved a stop at a local discount retailer.  I was looking at children’s shoes when I saw a young family.  Dad, Mom, a baby in a seat and a little boy who looked to be in the 18-month to two years range.  He was cute and quiet.  I didn’t hear a single noise from this child. 

I heard the dad tell the mom the little boy had taken off one of his shoes.  It was a croc-type and it was right beside him.  Big deal.  My daughter used to shuck her shoes at every opportunity, even when it was not the most opportune time. 

She bent down to pick up the shoe and she said it. ‘You’re a sneaky little shit.”  Yes, I bolded this word because I was mortified.  I can’t remember if I gave her a look or not, but then the dad piped up and said, ‘Yes, you’re a sneaky little man.’

Ok, this is where I get cranky.  She was a young mother, early 20’s.  But come on!  How can you speak to a child that way!  A very young child.  What is she going to do when that little boy gets sent home from school for calling a classmate a little shit?

You know, I am no stranger to cursing.  In my former life, I considered it sport to see how many curse words I could fit into a sentence and it still make sense.  Then I became a mother and realized my child is a reflection of me.  I never knew I could become some uptight, prudish mother, but for the longest time, in our house we didn’t say ‘butt’ we said bottom, or booty.  It just sounded to rough to me coming out of the mouths of my babes.  I understand we all have to do what we feel is best for ourselves and our children.  So you say “butt” in your house, ok.  That’s your deal.  Do you call your child a four-letter-word?  That’s where I draw the line.  That is absolutely unacceptable and inappropriate kind of language to be used around a small child who truly does not know better.

I know, I know. I’ve been thinking about this since I first drafted this post.  I really should have said something to that girl, she who is old enough to know better, and obviously young enough not to care.  Next time I see someone speaking that way to a child, I will speak up.  It’s just reprehensible to treat someone that way, let alone a very young child.

I remember one time I said ‘shit’ in front of my son and instantly regretted it, but it simply slipped out.  I was on the phone with a friend who was telling me about a disaster that had claimed man lives.  It was one of those tragic, freak kind of accidents and I said it while my son, 2 at the time, was near enough to hear me.  What did he do?  He pipes up and says, ‘Oh shit!’  Now I”m really thinking ‘OH SHIT!’ What have I done? I’ve just corrupted my beautiful little child.

Please please please people, speak to your children with love and respect, not curse words and condescension.

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