Aug 26, 2009

I won't be offended if you answer NO to the question at the end of this post

So this post will probably lose me a lot of respect and friends and possibly even a few phone calls to the Health and Welfare department. But I just feel like posting it, it's kind of like saying it outloud, but without having to watch someone's face react to the horror. And today, I really feel the need to say it outloud. So if you read this and don't feel like being friends anymore, I get it.

With everyone's kids going back to school (and our school district being the last to start in the entire world, so I'm still sitting here dealing with summer child overload) I keep reading the posts about how mothers are sad to see their kids go, and how much they're going to miss them, and how much they absolutely love motherhood.

Want me to tell you what I think about motherhood?

I hate it.

There are times when I hate it more than any other thing on the planet.

And there goes most of my friends. But I'm sorry. I do. I hate being a mother.

I don't hate my children. And I don't hate the idea of motherhood in general. I just hate being a mother.

Not that there aren't moments when I feel all happy inside because the kids have done something cute, or wrapped their tiny arms around my neck for a hug. Those moments are good. It's just the rest of it I can't handle or stand.

Mostly I think I blame this on one of my particularly challenging children. I don't want to point fingers, but if you have been a long time blog reader, you'll know that I had nicknamed one of my brood "Screamer" so it probably wouldn't be hard to figure out who the challenging one is. Not that I'm pointing fingers. Because I'm not. But HOLY COW is that child hard.

He's an "almost" special needs child. Where nothing is really wrong with him (that we can label), but he's not entirely your average child.

And you know how it is when one of the kids is a complete uncontrollable mess of emotionally charged tantrums? The other kids have eyes and brains and bodies. They mimic. They push buttons. They see if they can get as far know....the one kid, who seems to have no end to his tirades.

So all day I'm dealing with four (because even the baby is old enough now to throw her own impressive tantrums) out of control children who contend with me at every request.

I say, "It's time to get dressed."

And I get wailing and gnashing of teeth in return. Only two of my kids can dress themselves anyway, and one of them isn't very good at it. So after dressing myself, it's quite a pain to get 3 other wiggly human beings in clothes. And heaven forbid if they don't like the shirts I've picked. Or if they want to wear the pants that got covered in jam which I haven't washed yet. (Because the loads and loads and loads and loads of laundry that go along with motherhood is definitely on the list of what I hate.)

So then I say, "It's time for breakfast."

More wailing, teeth gnashing, and also pushing away of bowls if they're not the right color, or we don't have the right kind of cereal or if their spoon doesn't happen to be the kind with roses on it. And Monkey, being two years old and frustrated easily, has decided that even if the cereal is acceptable, it's still absolutely necessary to yell at it and throw it EVERY SINGLE MORNING.

That's just the beginning....of my mornings.

Heaven forbid if I have any expectations of my children, other than sitting in one place while I wait on their every need.

I say, "It's time to clean up."

And not only is there wailing and the teeth thing, but there is full on torturous screaming and tears and kicking of feet and throwing things, and Captain Hard Child has to physically be escorted to the toy room to clean, which involves much kicking, punching and head butting directed at me. And then things still don't get clean. The tantrums last hours.

I've tried methods.

I've tried reward and/or punishment systems.

I've tried screaming at them until I have a headache.

I've even tried what I thought I never would - - the spanking of bare butts.

Nothing phases these kids.

So this morning I took every single toy we have and put them in the already destroyed toyroom, then stuck the older two kids in their toyless rooms (I have to have a child safety door knob lock thingy to keep Captain in his room) told them they are completely grounded from toys, tv, games, computer, friends, bikes, EVERYTHING until they decide that they want to clean up their own mess. But guess who gets punished for that?


Now that the day has gone on they're just hanging on me, whining and demanding to do all of the things they're grounded from.

And amidst all of this, Captain Hard Child has decided that although it took over 2 years to potty train, he still would like to totally and completely refuse to poop. Not in a toilet, not in a diaper, not in the middle of a train station (although we haven't yet tried this one.) He just won't poop. So he holds it. He clenches his butt cheeks and holds it in.

He's been doing it for years, but it's gotten so much grosser, because now he's in underwear. And despite his best efforts, a little poop always squeezes through those cheeks. Multiple times a day. Until we give him an enema and he has no choice but to let out the much too huge turd (grown from all the holding.)

Very frustrating, I tell you.

Being a parent is hard. There's all those diapers to change. All the teaching. The countless meals to prepare and watch your kids NOT eat. Having absolutely no freedom to do anything without dragging an entire clan of little screaming things into public. The never ending cleaning. Not getting a full nights sleep for YEARS. A completely destroyed body from pregnancies.

MONEY. I haven't bought myself new clothes in like 5 years - unless you count the maternity clothes I bought when pregnant with Number Four because I wore the rest of mine out- because ALL of our money goes to the kids and their medical bills, and their ever changing shoe sizes, and their ability to drink enough milk that if we owned a cow one wouldn't be enough. And I still have to work from home making as much money as humanly possible in this crap economy, taking even more of my energy and time than I had to give in the first place.

And you roll all of this up into a tight little mommyhood ball, and guess what? I would like to toss it. Most days I feel like running away as far and fast as I can. Clearly I'm doing a horrible job at this. CLEARLY I can't handle these children. Especially that one. I don't like motherhood one little bit at all.

But I do love my kids. And I promised to do my best with them. So I don't toss it, or run. I just stay here, getting farther and farther away from sane.....

Are we still friends?

Aug 24, 2009

and the title evades me.....yet again

So I'm thinking that I should probably write something on the blog...weird how to keep readers you have to keep writing stuff for them to read. I mean, it makes sense, but if I ran the world people would just have to peruse my archives until they had every word memorized.

What a joy that would be! (Lucky for you, I don't run the world. And I don't think the world is in danger of me running it at any time in the near future....unless something like that just happens to fall in your lap without any effort.)

Nothing blog worthy is in my brain at the moment. And I don't really watch tv, so I can't even talk about that.


I watched some BBC Shakespearean type shows the other day on Netflix. They were like the popular Shakespeare stories, but told in modern times (or like 2005 when they were made, or whatever. That may or may not be when they were done, by the way. I really have no idea.)

And you know, one of my celebrity crushes was in one. I've actually blogged about him before (but I didn't really have any readers besides family back then, so the post has like no comments.)

James McAvoy.

I really can't tell you why I think he's attractive. Especially since he has this way of never shaving, even in movies, and he always looks scruffy and that grosses me out. But still. I find him a little adorable.

Except that the Shakespearean tale that he was in was MacBeth. I have to be honest, I have never actually read that one, or even knew the plot (previously.) I just knew that it had some kind of haunting or crazy people in it.

James plays MacBeth. It was really great watching one of my celebrity crushes become a psychologically deranged killer.

Yeah, so my kids finally start school next monday. I'm going to have a first grader. Is that weird to any else besides me? Because I find that weird. Not like I don't have 4 kids or anything. But when did they get old enough to eat lunch in a different location, five days a week? And what am I going to do when I actually have to get out of bed before 9:30 to get her to the location where she'll be spending 7 hours a day (and eating that lunch)? I should really hire someone, preferably a morning person, to come get my kids ready for school in the morning.

OH, that reminds me. One of my oober (can I say "oober" or is that just for gay men to say? Because sometimes it pops into my head and I just don't know if I can socially acceptably say it outloud) funny friends told me today that she just hired a 'Manny.' She has 1 1/2 year old triplets, a 4 year old Downs Syndrome boy, she just went back to college and her husband works in another state (yeah, if anyone needs a Manny, it's her.) But it really got me thinking.

I want a Manny.

And he'd have to be a morning person.

But I really doubt he'd be able to do my daughter's hair in any school worthy fashion, so I guess I ought to just get out of bed in time to get her ready myself. (My priorities are clearly in check on this one.)

Aug 12, 2009

soapboxishness-like (in some parts)

You know what feeling I really hate?

Numb eyeballs.

It doesn't really hurt, it's just really weird. And it makes it really annoying to put contacts in when you can't even feel your eyeball.

I got some new drops from my dr yesterday (they numb me twice each time I go, by the way, which is thoroughly annoying) and it's like putting liquid fire straight into my eyes. I get to use those drops twice a day now. Along with a couple other kinds of drops (one of which is like putting skim milk in my eyes.)

For those of you new to my blog, you should probably know that I have Glaucoma. Yes, it's an old people disease. I am always the youngest person in the waiting room at the dr's office. And that's even including the people giving all of the old people rides. But it's in my genes, so liquid fire drops and numb eyeballs happen to me a lot.

You know what is really frustrating?

School clothes shopping for a first grader. (I'm switching gears...did that throw you off?)

My kids are sturdy. Not overweight. Not even at the top of the growth charts (once out of babyhood.) At school age I wouldn't even consider them chubby. Just nice and solid.

So why do they make little girls jeans for tall stick-like children? My six year old is also kind of tall. But not tall and skinny. Tall and sturdy. So by the time I find jeans that don't cut into her stomach when she sits (or exhales) they have to be rolled up about 3 times.

It's really annoying. Who are all of these stick-like girls that clothing designers are working for? Because yesterday I found a pair of size 7 little girl jeans with major hips in them. And last I checked girls that size don't have hips.

I also found a lot of skanky shirts that size. My sister called me a prude yesterday - which is sort of true (although I prefer the term "values" rather than "prudishness.") But it's hard for me to picture a parent that wants to emphasize their first graders non-existent cleavage and midriff. And yet the clothes exist.

Husband and I watched a movie the other night on Netflix. "Lakeview Terrace." Not a feel good movie.

There was a whole lot of racial stuff in that movie, and it really makes me wonder when we're ever going to get over that? Not that I don't think race is important. On the contrary, I think everyone should be proud of who they are and where they came from and what they look like. I just don't think that it should make anyone feel entitled to prejudices or privileges.

...stepping down from soapbox now.

Aug 8, 2009

shopping ahoy

I'm working up the courage to go grocery shopping. I have to go to Winco. Where EVERYONE else shops. I hate crowds. They should really just make a store for me. I would probably allow a few of my friends to shop there too - but only if they each chipped in for extra cookies for me each time they went.

We would always have sales at my store too. And it would probably be like a Super Target and have food and clothes and toys and stuff. Because I would hate to be selfish and have to have a whole other store for all that other stuff.

I'm debating on whether I should offer for the whole family to go shopping with me. Except that's just beyond foolish, because what, am I insane? My whole family in a grocery store = bad news. The fact that the thought even crossed my mind proves how much I do not want to go. Clearly my brain is functioning on a non-rational plain due to the pressure of a very unwanted task.

But the only other option is to hand Husband a list and then let him leave the house kid free - which he gets to do every day, by the way, when I don't. So I guess I ought to go get my shoes on and just deal with the over-crowded store where I can never remember which aisle has what in an effort to find the best deals on crap like Mac and Cheese and frozen peas.

I'll probably have to get some good cookies while I'm there just to make it a teeny bit worth it.

Aug 3, 2009

Miss Delacourt book review

This book is great. I was able to read it all on saturday. Being in the car for 4 hours helped - and the book helped me stay sane while in the car for those 4 hours (as my kids screamed from the back seats.)
I loved the part about the duel. The outcome is funny and unlike any duel I've ever heard of. However, I'm not going to tell you what happened - you have to read the book to find out.
My favorite part about this book was that the characters deviated from the rules of propriety just enough to make things interesting. But they weren't complete deviants, either. I really like Jane Austen books, but sometimes they are all so stuck in a shell of decorum that it gets frustrating. And I've also read some books where the characters were completely rule free (remember that historical Harlequin romance book I read - yeah....yikes.)
I can't wait to see what Heidi has written for the next book. I saw on her blog the other day that she finished writing the manuscript, so now all I have to do is wait for it to be published. I can wait, right? I'm totally good at waiting....
Ok not so good at wiating, so maybe I'll just bribe her for a copy of that manuscript - anyone have any dirt on Heidi Ashworth? If you have something juicy enough, I'll let you borrow the manuscript when I'm done with it.

Aug 2, 2009

why I have hairy ankles

I have a tub spider. It likes to cling to the side of the tub and just wait for me to come in, completely unsuspecting, to jump out and attack me...or crawl across the tub. Whatever.

But I never scream. Because I'm brave.

Of course, I have to wash it down the drain before ever thinking about setting a toe in that tub. Because yikes - I've seen "Arachnophobia."

You know the scene where the girl is in the shower and the spider drops down and can't get a grip through the soapy bubbles so it slides all the way down her naked body and you almost see obscene parts?

I know what tub spiders are like.

(Since that movie is clearly the code for all spiders of all kinds to follow - I'm sure they were all really ticked when it was made, because it gave away all of their secret spidey actions to get us humans.)

The scariest part is that I never really know if the spider is gone. Because even though I've washed that thing down the drain multiple times, he always comes back. To spook me with his almost scream inducing tub crawl.

So even when I've just washed him down the drain, and dumped some extra water in there even though he disappeared almost a minute ago, I feel like I can't really shower normally. Because what if I turn my back to the drain and the spider crawls out to take advantage of me not being able to see it? And heaven forbid if I have to shave my legs. Because that not only entails turning my back to the drain, but also bending over to shave my ankles. And that's just asking for a big spider bite on the tush.

It's really creepy, I tell you.