The Ultimate Frustration

I do NOT know how to deal with our family's dinner time battle. Every F-ing night it's the same thing. The fight to get the kids to EAT. Aren't we just the meanest God-damn parents ever??? I mean I want to feed them. It's absolutely unconscionable isn't it?

Every afternoon I prep myself for the biggest problem, which is the peanut. I tell myself not to get into the power struggle and she'll eat if she's hungry. But, there is the issue, she is the queen of, "I'm not hungry!" and then minutes after I've excused everyone from the table and cleaned the dinner plates, she's fucking asking for something to EAT! I swear to God, it takes every fiber of my being (and an AMAZING husband) to just walk away and not scream like a maniac at her.

I know that so much of parenting is picking your battles and knowing what is worth pushing for, but I truly feel like this is important. I don't ask them to eat too much. I give them VERY age appropriate portions. It happens no matter WHAT is for dinner, whether it's salmon and green beans or mac n' cheese. I feel like this is an important battle to be fought and WON by ME. I want to raise children that will go out into this world knowing that you eat healthy foods when it is meal-time. (Not just graze on Goldfish crackers and cheese all throughout the day.) I want them to be exposed to a variety of foods and not grow up all picky and shit. I want them to know that this is what has been prepared for them and if they don't like it they can lump it. To me, these are important things to learn.

UGH!!! I am to the point where I don't want to eat dinner with my kids anymore. I wish I could just allow them to turn on the TV and I could read a nice book while I drink my glass(es) of wine. I just honestly don't know how to make this part of our family life more harmonious. I know that my kiddos are by no means the ONLY ones who pull this bullshit, but they are mine and therefore I must manage their bullshit and I just can't seem to.

So, until that time comes, I'll just continue to walk away from the dinner table multiple times each evening...

When Birds Break Your Concentration.

I have this cast on my leg and it's really bringing me down. I honestly feel a depression comin' on because of this thing. I'm gaining weight, I can't drive (Just let that sink in.), I can't wear jeans or cute shoes, I have to put a plastic bag over my leg to bathe, and I'm sure my foot really stinks. Let's just talk about the itch factor for a minute... IT'S DRIVING ME CRAZY!!!!

I have a stress fracture in my right ankle that doesn't seem to want to heal. My first introduction to this whole "process" was one of those super sexy plastic and velcro robo-boots for 5 weeks. When that didn't help- AT ALL Dr. Stinky Hands (get it? He's a podiatrist so he touches a lot of feet.)* put me in a fiberglass cast. 3 weeks later, I still haven't healed all the way and have pain, particularly when Dr. Stinky Hands squeezes my ankle like he's trying to juice it. So, on goes ANOTHER cast. This time the casting tech got all fancy and put burgandy and black stripes on this baby. It's adorable.** My only comfort is when I look at the burgandy stripes on my cast I think of red wine which makes me relax.

Anyway, I go in two more weeks to see Dr. S.H., get this cast off and my ankle squeezed again. I have decided to tell the doctor that it feels just fine, I am so OVER this cast bullshit. I don't know what to do, but I can't deal with this thing anymore. I'm usually a gym rat who hasn't been to the gym in almost 2 weeks.

Break in the action... As I was typing this post, sitting on my bed, in my FREAKIN' bedroom- inside my house- a BIRD just landed on my bed. What the fuck, that scared the shit out of me! (Let me explain the logistics of that, living in AZ, now that it's cool finally I had my door from the bedroom to outside open, so I guess it's not all that surprising, but it still just shocked the hell out of me!) Luckily it was a smart bird and he/she just flew her little bird ass back out the door after I screamed like I was being bludgeoned.

O.K., I can't focus anymore, I'm all wierded out. My stream of conciousness has run its course about my cast. Let's just hope birds are harbingers or good healing.

*By the way, I believe a joke ceases to be funny once to have to explain it with that many words. Oh well, I tried!

**Is the sarcasm coming through here?

Where's my bailout, bitches???

Working outside of the home is a double-edged sword. On one hand- Man, do I miss my kids when I'm not at home with them. On the other hand- Man, is it nice not to listen to the high pitched shriek peanut emits that tends to make my ears bleed.

This whole "economic" situation has changed my life. I NEED to work more, and in some ways I WANT to work more. I feel vindicated by earning a pay check (as measly as it may be). I also provide the medical & dental benefits for the family so I feel an extra boost of self-importance.
The price I pay for working more hours is the dis-connect I feel from my kids. (Not so much hubby because we still have the after bedtime bliss to hang out and ignore each other while we're either watching T.V. or each on our own laptops.) As I mentioned before I'm not a FUN mom. As much as I want to be, there is not one ounce of me that wants to pretend two pillows are "mommy" and "baby" with little peanut after working all day. (Hell, to be completely honest, I don't really want to do that even when I'm home all day.)

Whew... Tangent... Sorry about that.

I was planning to go all IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE on your asses and instead I'm bitching about my kids. Nice.

OK, so back to my original thought. So yeah, the economy, particularly the failing housing market, has really fucked up our lives. We were the prime example of $30,000 millionaires. No savings, no planning for the future, while living in a million dollar home and buying pretty much everything we wanted, let alone needed. We went on trips and stayed in nice hotels. We went out to eat most dinners. Life was "fun". And even though it was "fun" there was always a part of me that felt like a fraud. Then it changed and it became painfully obvious that we were frauds. It was, and still is sometimes, very embarrassing.

Silver lining time, I am so grateful that the shit hit the fan at this time of our lives when we are relatively young. We still have some time to make up for the mistakes we have made and I have HOPE that we will. We have been given the gift of learning what is REALLY important. Not to say there aren't times I miss our old, fraudulent life. Particularly when I've worked all day and have to come home and cook dinner when in our other life I would have been home all day and gone out to dinner. But I am enjoying, wholeheartedly, dinner around our kitchen table with the four of us- even when it's hot dogs and salad night. (The beauty of hot dogs is you can choose red or white wine to pair with them- either one works.)

Alright- I went off course but what I'm trying to say is, even though shit is REALLY hard right now and money seems to funnel out of our hands at an alarming rate, I truly can say that my life is good and I am blessed.

But can I pay someone to play "mommy" and "baby" with Peanut?

Dance Party Night with hubby and kiddos...

This is my favorite activity to do with my kids, it's the one thing that I can agree with them is fun. Everything else they like, um, I just don't.

I feel like this makes me a REALLY bad mom.

I don't want to play Candyland, it's just not that fun with a three year old. I don't want to watch my 8 year old play computer games. BOOOOOORING. Not that I won't do those things, I just don't want to. This could quite possibly be one of the worst things to say, right?

Dance party night on the other hand brings it all together. Turn on the music and start shakin' it. My daughter loves to dance, just like her mommy and my son loves music- JUST LIKE ME! Finally, something we can all do and enjoy.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy my children. They amaze me everyday with their own special unique talents. I guess the issue is, I'm not the same age as them. (makes all kinds of sense.)
My little peanut girl is the cutest damn thing- she's sassy and silly and says the sweetest things.
My skinny skater boy is so smart in a normal "un-geniusy" way and he still lets me snuggle him- which I adore. I know one day that will not happen anymore.

I guess the moral of the story is... I LOVE my kids with all of my being- just like all other moms- I'm just not a very fun mom.

Unless you feel like dancing.

Sicko!

I've been hit...
I feel like shit...
Just want some silence-
for a bit...

Ta Da, there's my poem.

It's all about how I have a cold and feel really poopy right now. My kids are running around like animals messing up the entire house that I will absolutely refuse to clean. Hubby thinks that right now is a great time to start building a skate ramp for my 8 year old. Good God, REALLY?

So, not only am I wearing a big plastic boot/cast thing on my leg for a stress fracture in my ankle, but I have he bright red, raw nostrils of an overly snotty nose. Awesome! I feel pretty.

Long story short, I'm feeling rather sorry for myself. Anyone want to join my little self-pity party? No? Hmmm

What a wuss!

I have found that I'm actually petrified to put words out in the universe for others to judge, which is hilarious since I don't know that anyone will actually read this. And- since my friends and family don't even know about it- the risk of anyone calling me on this is relatively/significantly loooow.

So, get the fuck over it, right? Just write some shit down and deal with the rising panic I'm feeling.

I realize that blogs are supremely narcissistic and this is a struggle I've always had- I am, at my core, a very self-absorbed person; yet I would DIE if anyone ever said that to me. I don't want to be this way, but I am. I don't know if it's because I'm an only child who grew up with amazing parents who did nothing but tell me how special I am or just my own little personality quirk I have to take all the responsibility for. I am going with a combo of the two reasons I guess especially since I'm not so good with the whole "responsibility" thing... The gist of this rambling, I suppose, is to just be narcissistic and do the damn blog- but make sure anyone who EVER reads this knows I don't want to be seen as narcissistic. (BTW, I don't ever want to type that word again, it has way to many letters and I can' t get it right the 1st or 2nd time I type it.)

So, my hope is, the next time I post:

A. I will have something interesting/insightful to say.

B. I will not shake the entire time I'm typing.

Is that too much to ask????

The shell just cracked.

So, I'm new to this blogging thing and I enter it feeling in awe of the ladies (and gentlemen, I guess) who've come before me. I must admit I've been a blog stalker for the last few months and I am filled with anticipation each time I check a blog I've been watching for new posts. I'm apprehensive to do this because every time I read someone's blog I admire, I am struck dumb by their wit. But, I figure- this is something that scares me (ridiculous, I know) so I should just do it. I don't know if or when I will let anyone know about this blog, I don't know if I'm ready to embarrass myself in front of the ones I love just yet. I do that often enough on my own. Since I'm not sure who, if anyone at all, will see this I will be treating it somewhat like my journal. Boy, that makes it sound really boring. We'll see.