Tag Archives: Mother

Mompiphany #40: My Sincerest Apologies for Being Busy (And for Judging)

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I want to apologize for being missing in action. I have all but fallen off of the proverbial blogsophere earth. I feel like a walking cliché, but I have been busy. I have been at home full time for about six months now and my perception of stay at home moms has totally changed.

When I first started staying home I figured I would be “busy” but I really didn’t know how busy I would be. We (speaking for working moms) have all been around THOSE stay at home moms who always profess to be so, so, so busy. I, for one, used to get quite annoyed with them. Seeing them at the gym complaining on the treadmill how busy their day was going to be. Emailing them to schedule play dates and hearing them spew out obscure dates and times because they were so busy. I used to get really annoyed. What the heck were they busy doing?! I guess that I never really understood how someone who “only” had one job (staying at home) could be so busy, especially since as a working mom I had two jobs (and yes, in my head, I felt that on a busy scale a working mom would always trump a stay at home mom in terms of how busy we were).

Of course, I despise the whole Mommy War debate, and I do (and did) think that all moms work, but when I was working outside of the home, I felt that working moms had a slight leg up on the busy scale.

But, can I just say that I, Marquette Heaven, am a stay at home mom, and I am busy. I hate to even say it because I know how obnoxious it can sound. I know I am fortunate to be able to stay at home, but I also know that I am busy. I am busy doing stuff — so busy that I try to think about how it would be to work outside the home again and I don’t even think I would have time. I have found that staying at home is nonstop. I knew that it would be but it is demonstrated every day. My type A personality is probably not best suited for this career change hence why I am so busy. I have been busy doing things that I never had time to do before, and a lot of it I will admit are nice to dos and not necessarily need to dos. I make hot breakfasts for my family every morning. I clean the house from top to bottom every day. I volunteer at the kids’ schools. I step up to help out more for the kids’ activities. I make healthy meals for dinner. I actually go to the doctor for myself the moment I feel sick. I organize parts of my house that I forgot even existed. I help the kids’ with their homework. I make sure that I get in a few precious minutes of exercise each day, etc.

I feel horrible for ever, ever, ever judging other moms — those who work outside of the home, those who stay at home, those who let their daughters wear princess tutus every day, even those who forget to scream at their kids to sneeze into their sleeve (ok maybe I don’t forgive THOSE moms), because no matter how you Mother, Mothering redefines the term “busy work”.

 

Mompiphany #35: Pregnancy Scare

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I recently had a pregnancy scare. It sounds almost comical to write that. I am 36 and have been married for 10 years. My husband and I own a nice-sized home, we have a mini- van (clearly the vehicle of choice for Moms who have realized after their third time pooping on the delivery table that there really is no more practical car for a large family), we have a Costco membership and are able to provide healthy meals and snacks for our family. We have enough love, medical insurance, and patience to care for our family no matter what size it is. Yet, when I thought that I could be pregnant I was scared. Like, broke out in a cold sweat, saw my care-free days filled with 3 kids in school pass right before my eyes. I totally empathize with all of the girls on 16 and pregnant (although they look like they took the news of their pregnancies a lot better than I did.)

I took a pregnancy test and before I even checked the results some FIVE days later, I knew what the result would be: POSITIVE. I am positively pregnant with our fourth child. I, of course, had publicly declared to anyone who would listen that we were done having kids. I even gave away all of my maternity and baby related things (oh.. and to all of my friends to whom I have given my things, I will be needing EVERYTHING back. Thanks in advance!). I swore that the only way to justify having more than three kids was to live on a farm, which we don’t.

My husband took the news of our expanding family much better than I did. “Oh this is great. It will be great. Big families are great.” Of course, I know that it will be great… eventually when the baby is sleeping through the night but I worry. I worry if I have enough to give a 4th child. I wonder if my breasts can even produce milk anymore given the fact that they are virtually nonexistent after nursing three kids. I worry that my husband and I will be prisoners in our own home once the children realize that there are strength in numbers. I worry that I will have to go to jail for cutting someone who snidely says “WOW” or “God bless you!!!” and looks at us like zoo animals as we get out of our clown car.

But even with all of that worry, one thing is not changing: I am 3.5 months pregnant (and by the way– when you are having your 4th child, you automatically look like you are in your last trimester almost immediately after having relations) and at the beginning of next year we will be blessed with another child.  We will be a family of six. YOWZER!! It should make for a very interesting ride with lots of Mompiphanies. Hopefully, I will have enough time and wherewithal to write about them!

Mompiphany #29: The Pep Talk

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A pair of cheerleading pom-pons

When I take all three of my kids out in public, people often stop us and comment on how well behaved my kids are. I always smile and politely say, “thank you” while lovingly glancing at my precious little cherubs. Little do our admirers know that before I even think about leaving the house with my three crazies, I always have what I affectionately call “the pep talk.”

I am comfortable taking my kids pretty much anywhere: the zoo, plays, movies, parks, festivals, museums, the mall, the grocery store, the gynecologist, etc. For me, it is nothing to marvel at. I know that my husband’s schedule is demanding, and I like to make sure that the kids are as busy as possible so when we want to get up and go somewhere the fact that I often have to take all three of my kids by myself does not slow me down in the least. I owe all of this confidence to the pep talk. Like any good team captain, it is imperative to have plays in line that will ensure a winning outcome.

The pep talk usually starts out like this: Do I need to remind anyone of how we need to act when we are in public today??? To which they all begrudgingly say, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.” I ignore their tone and begin my rousing, motivational speech (SIDE NOTE: I am all about rousing, having been a varsity cheerleader in high school.):

“If anyone runs off without asking me, we will go home. If anyone pees their pants (MILLER!!) because they are too busy to stop to use the bathroom, we will go home. If anyone complains about the (healthy) snacks that Mommy has packed for this outing, you will be subjected to water and fruit for the duration of our excursion to [fill in blank place]. If you whine or cry about the fact that I will not buy any crap from any souvenir shops, you will have to donate your most coveted toy to the Salvation Army when we get home. If you fight with one another, you will have to do a public kissing and hugging session with the other offending party for at least 5 minutes, regardless of who is watching and where we are (the 8 year old particularly loves that one.) If you embarrass our family name in anyway, we will never, ever leave our house again.”

The pep talk always ends with a cheerful, “Now let’s go out and have some fun! Go Team Heaven!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Works like a charm I tell ya!

Mompiphany #28: Overuse Of The Word Mom

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As much as I love being a mother, sometimes I absolutely hate hearing my name: Mom, Mommy, Moooooooooooom!!! All. Day. Long. When I was a child, I remember getting into trouble for saying my own mother’s name too much. “If one more person says my name [fill in a threat of violence],” my mom would threaten my sister and me. Now I know exactly how she felt because the incessant calling of “mom” can be very annoying. I know that being a mom is privilege that not everyone can enjoy, but I also know that even June Cleaver would go postal if her own children called her name as often as mine do.

My 3 year old son is the biggest culprit of overuse. From the time he wakes up to the time he goes to bed he is saying, yelling, whispering, whining, and repeating my name. Maybe it would not be as grating if he simply said my name in a pleasant fashion, something like “Mom, I love you and while you may not be happy with the way your bathing suit looks right now, I think that you look like you did in the high school yearbook that you keep making us look at.” Instead, he yells it, whines it, screams it, even when he doesn’t have to, e.g., when I am sitting on the couch RIGHT next to him, he will yell, “MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!” Sometimes it is followed by an adorable pause and an “I love you,” but most of the time, “MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!” is followed by another yelling of my name with some sort of request or declaration, like “I am hungry,” “I am tired,” “Mckinley is bothering me,” “I have to poop,” “I just pooped,” “I miss Daddy” – you get the point.

I feel horrible for thinking this or even writing it but if I hear my name yelled one more time I may lose it. I have threatened my kids that if they scream/whine/yell my name like that I won’t answer and I will put the offender in time out. But, my threats are ignored. (This is probably because they can’t hear me and are too busy yelling my name.) And, I do not blame my kids for picking up this annoying habit; I blame that annoying cartoon, Phineas and Ferb (which is now banned at my house.)  The way the teenage character, Candace, whines “Moooooooooooooooooom” is enough to make you want to scream.

Is there anything that your kids do that make you want to holler? Please tell me I am not the only one.

Mompiphany #27: Don’t Like It? Don’t Eat It.

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A dinner table with wooden chairs in a living ...

This is what I say at the I start of every single meal with my kids. With three very distinct taste buds under one roof finding meals that everyone likes and are quasi-healthy is almost impossible. I know I sound like most moms when I say that it is beyond frustrating when you spend time (be it 5 minutes or 55 minutes) cooking only to have a few pint-sized food critics turn up their noses at what you’ve prepared and request nuggets.

The food battle in my house is exacerbated by my husband. When he is home, he walks into the pantry, grabs a snack, and feeds them to the kids who are trained like Pavlov’s dogs. My kids have gone as far as to run down the driveway while my husband is pulling his car out just to ask for snacks (even when I am standing in the kitchen) because they know that daddy will say yes to anything and that mommy offers up fruit as a suitable snack.

Snacks aside, long ago I decided that I would not cook for the kids because they are so fickle. Even if I cook something that I know that they like, there is still no guarantee that they will eat it. So now I cook for me and my husband, and if the kids happen to want to eat it, that’s a bonus. I menu plan each week, and I do ask for their input (and it is not like I am cooking chitlins and beets) but if they don’t like what I cook, they don’t have to eat it. They can help themselves to a fruit or vegetable. This approach to dealing with my pint-sized food critics has been beyond liberating. If I had a bra that was decent enough to show in public, I would probably burn it in a public display of freedom in front of Harris Teeter.

My kids are well fed and healthy without me catering to their picky-ness. Well-balanced meals are a luxury that not all kids can afford and having confirmed with my pediatrician, I know that kids can go several days without eating before suffering any major ailments so I don’t feel the least bit guilty if the kids are not feeling the whole wheat pasta bake that I made.

So, on the menu tonight: slow cooker bbq chicken on whole wheat hamburger buns, homemade baked fries, and steamed broccoli. No likey? No problem – don’t eat it. That leaves more for me. I feel as free as a bird I tell you.  How do you deal with the picky eaters at your house?

Mompiphany #26: The Ferocious Mommy

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Lion - Louisville Zoo

Long before Amy Chua’s book introduced the Tiger Mom to the masses, I would say that I was a Tiger Mom even though I was not raised with a strict Chinese upbringing, nor did my parents threaten to haul away my favorite toy to the Salvation Army if I didn’t perfect my clarinet scales. Notwithstanding this “lax” upbringing, I find that I have quite a few characteristics of parents who not only want what is best for their kids but who work, and have their kids work hard, to make sure that they are the best.

Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t think that my kids are any better than any other kids, but I do have expectations for my kids based on what I know of them and their individual strengths and weaknesses. I expect that they will do their best in school. I expect that they will be at the top of their classes. I expect that they will do some sort of extracurricular activities. During the summer, in addition to all of the fun that we have planned (and I really do make a big effort for them to be able to enjoy their summers), I assign my own projects for them to do in addition to our library’s summer reading program, and the math packets that their school sends home.

So, when my daughter, Marlee, wrote a poem about me as part of her second grade poetry tea a couple of days ago, it should have come as no surprise that while other kids were describing their mothers as “towers of love,” “the prettiest rose in the patch,” and “a beacon of caring,” that my daughter described me as “a ferocious lion of educational meaningfulness.” As I was listening to her ode to her feline predator of a mother, it made me reassess how Marlee perceives me as her mom.

It is clear that Marlee understands all of the expectations that I have for her, but does she really understand how much I love her and do I do a good job of making sure that she knows that she is loved, cared for, and safe with me? The fact that she described me as a ferocious lion was no surprise to those who know me but it was still a little unsettling. I know I am not the type of mother who oozes syrupy cotton candy and bubble gum, but I certainly don’t want mt kids to think of me solely as an educational drill sergeant. My kids are bright, fun, and energetic ,and I don’t want to squelch any of that with all of my educational meaningfulness.

That is why as we are about to start our summer vacation I am vowing to make a concerted effort to not just tell my kids that I love them, but to show them that I do as well. Seeing myself through Marlee’s eyes was a huge “mompiphany” moment. The funny thing is that when she asked me to play the Wii this afternoon, my first response was to say no and suggest that she read or do something else. But tonight I agreed to let her play. Her eyes got wide, and I could tell that she was surprised and happy. Hopefully if she writes a poem about me next year it will be a little more warm and fuzzy. Meow!

Mompiphany #16: Stay At Home Moms Have More Sex

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I recently suggested to my husband that we sit down and seriously discuss what my roles and responsibilities will be as a stay at home mom. I was very curious to know what his expectations would be.

In lieu of my past quick and easy pasta bake, will he now be expecting homemade pasta with fresh tomatoes from a garden that I have grown myself?

Will he request that his clothes be washed, folded and put away properly as opposed to how I now wash all clothes (regardless of color) in one load and then shove them in any open crevice on his side of the closet?

While it was clear within a few minutes of our conversation that other than me not screaming at the kids in the morning that I was going to be late for work, not a whole lot would be changing from what I was doing when I worked outside of the home.  Although, it seems as though my dear husband seems to think that I will have a lot more time for, sex.

Now, I have polled many of my stay at home mommy friends and all of them told me explicitly what they do, do more of:  referring, cooking, cleaning, playdate scheduling, volunteering, penny pinching, bargain hunting, pinteresting, couponing, crying in the fetal position, shopping, wine drinking, dolling out bandaids, etc. and not one of them ever mentioned that they were having more sex as a result of being a stay at home mom, although some of them did say that they are thinking a lot more about sex because they are reading “Fifty Shades of Grey.”

After working the 24 hour shift (what I affectionately call being a stay at home mom), I can honestly say that at the end of my day I am tired and drained and sex is not really at the top of my mind.  Although, I suppose I am open to having more relations, maybe I can schedule some time do it on my day off?

Mompiphany #7: Shut The Gush Up

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Do you ever have an uneasy feeling when you are around a certain type of person? The person is nice enough, doesn’t appear to be a mass murderer, smells pleasant enough, and even likes the same turkey meatballs from Trader Joe’s that you do.  But, there is just something about them that is a little unsettling.  I feel this way about “gushy moms.”  Gushy moms are those mothers who can only gush about every little thing their child does.

I see them at the park, gushing over their child’s every movement. Gushing about how high little Bobby can swing.  Gushing about how clever little Suzie is at playing in the sand box.  Gushing about how little Cameron is surely going to be in the 2020 Summer Olympics given her incredible running speed.  I sit back quietly with my shades on watching my own kids play (thankful that they are beyond the age when I have to actually get on the jungle gym with them), listening to them gush, and I want to yell, “Shut the GUSH up!”

Some of my “friends” on Facebook are “gushers.”  One Facebook friend uses her status updates and photo captions to gush over how much she loves motherhood and how cute her child is:  “I looooooooooooooove being a Mommy.” “Isn’t he the cutest?!”  “Being a Mommy is the best, I loooooooooooooooooooooove it.”  It goes on and on. Does everything have to be a gush? And if your life is so gush-worthy (and maybe some lives just are), one has to wonder is there ever a moment when your child is not the cutest and may even be a little annoying (like his Mom?).

When I had one child (and a lot more time on my hands), I will admit that I could be prone to gushing.  But, now that I see how freaking annoying it is, I apologize for my prior ways. As moms, it is easy to become consumed with every little thing your kid does.  Trust me I get it. I am my kids’ number one cheerleader.  But, this business of gushing over every little thing  your child does has got to stop.

Don’t get me wrong, praising kids, helping to boost their confidence and making them feel good about themselves are things that I think all parents should do.  But, when a parent gushes about every little thing her child does, I think it lessens some of the child’s bigger accomplishments. Gushing about little William’s love of avocados, gushing about Sammie’s first poop on the potty, gushing about Billy Jr.’s ability to count to 5…be proud, be happy, dole out some praise but please shut the gush up!

Mompiphany #1: The Grass Is Always Greener

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Right after I had my oldest daughter, I vividly remember crying in the fetal position, begging my husband (who was in law school at the time) to please, please find some way, anyway, to make it possible for me to stay home with her.  I was willing to sell all of our worldly possessions, including my coveted Louis Vuitton bag, and even throw in a few bottles of liquid gold, breast milk, to be able to stay home with my sweet, darling first born.

At that time, staying home was not even an option given that my husband was in school and my penchant for power shopping at Baby Gap.

Fast forward 8 years, and 2 more kids later. I am knocking at the door of finally being able to stay at home with my children.  After juggling a career and a family for the past ten years, I have been given the opportunity (read: was laid off) and I can now stay at home with the kids.

I dreamed about this for so long so why am terrified at the prospect of being home 24/7 with my kids?   Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful that it is even an option for me to be able to stay home.  In my dreams, I spend quality time with the kids (without thinking about work), create innovating ways to make mac and cheese, nuggets and fries, while meeting my husband at the door with a perky, “Honey, how was your day?”

But I suspect the reality of my new life may be less than ideal.  What is probably lurking behind door #1 is the kids bickering all day, every day.  I will be screaming that they need to put their things away; my husband will be grilling me if it was really necessary for me to add grilled chicken (an additional expense) to the lunch that we ate out, and the only thing that will be perky about me is the way I toss all three kids into their bed at night (sans a bath or a bed time story) because Mommy just got off of a 24 hour shift.

Here we go, new life.  I got this.  Gulp!

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