What Makes a Parent
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
I'm member to so many parenting groups on MySpace (not to mention, I moderate six of them). But one that I'm most active of is a group called "Young Parents" - which is basically what it sounds like. The ladies in there are as young as 15 and as old as 30 (the 30 year olds are either there to be bitches and judge, or they were once a young parent as well). The group has a few trolls - people who use fake profiles simply to come in and stir trouble, but for the most part is a rather productive group.
We've had our share of stupid people in the group. I have been a member for two years now and I've certainly seen my share. But what came up last night, takes the cake for me.
There is a 19 year old girl in the group (we'll call her Bri) who has no children, has never had children, and will not be having any children in the near to distant future. She works in a day care, and actually believes that working in a day care makes her qualified to give advice to people about kids. She's made this claim before, and the mod asked her to leave the group a whole year ago (she didn't ban her..in case she ever did have children).
But last night, things got "worse" if you will. Bri actually suggested that she is raising the children she watches at work a few hours per day. You're joking..right? Let's examine her first thought...
"I have to say that there are some jobs out there that are harder than taking care of a child. I'm not saying taking care of a child isn't hard, it is. I care for alot of children everyday. The nice thing about not working outside of your home, is you get to work in the comfort of your own home. There are children annoying me all day. LOTS of children. If I am alone w/o help, I can't pee whenever I need to. You can at home though..."First off, there is NO harder job in this world than raising a child. There just isn't. Not only is physically demanding, but it's mentally and emotionally demanding as well. We are shaping people...REAL PEOPLE. We are teaching right from wrong and literally raising the future of this world. There is no harder job, and there is no job more important either. Being a parent is the most fulfilling job I have ever known and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
We don't get to just pee whenever we need to. Either someone is trying to stick their little fingers under the door to wave at us, tries to go in the bathroom with us to "help" or they sit outside the door screaming while you just take 2 minutes to yourself to do your business. Before you are a parent, you don't even realize how precious alone time in the bathroom - even for a couple of minutes, really is.
So then, this girl starts ragging on stay at home mothers as well, basically suggesting that we have it the easiest of all. Oh, how very little she knows.
"I am sure I could handle being a stay at home mom and I still wouldn't call it a harder job than someone else's. It depends on the job. Yeah, it's a hard job, but once you get the hang of it, it gets easier and you adjust."Oh really? I don't recall it getting any easier. Being at home all day with our children means not paying someone else to take them for even a couple of hours each day. We have them ALL day, which means very little time for ourselves. Don't get me wrong..I adore being a SAHM, but it doesn't just get easier. It gets
harder, because the children grow up and the job is always changing. It's not like working at McDonald's where every day in the same and you simply get used to the routine. No..children make every day completely different from the last!
The next issue will make you laugh. A woman told her that raising children is a lot different than taking care of children like day care workers do and her response was just hilarious.
"We do raise these children. We teach them everything. We teach them how to walk, talk, use the potty, etc. It's more than just taking care of a child. This isn't babysitting for a couple of hours where you sit on a couch and throw some toys on the living room floor until the parent(s) come home."Well, I don't know what kind of babysitting she's been doing, but I sure as hell never sat on the couch and simply threw the kids a few toys, waiting for the kid's parents to come home. That part of her comment makes me wonder what she really thinks of being a parent, and if that's what she thinks we really do all day.
As for "raising" the kids in day care. Um..I don't think so! You are NOT raising those children!!! That's what they have parents for! You are simply paid to watch over them, change them, feed them and keep them safe while their parents are out earning money to be able to support their faimilies. Watching a kid a few hours each day is not raising them. Oh boo hoo, you had to change a diaper or clean up spilled juice. That is not parenting!
Here is what it means to be a parent (Thanks to Lindsay for a few of these).You know more about medicine than most doctors.
You discover your parents were right, damn it.
You find yourself doing and saying things your parents did and said to you despite your childhood vows to the contrary.
8:30pm seems like an ungodly hour but 5am does not.
There is a three letter word that beats sex: bed.
You can hold a conversation, monitor 360 degrees around you, eat, hold a baby and think it all normal.
You can spot another parent without speaking or even knowing them.
The idea of a good night is no phone calls, all errands done and everyone in bed before 8pm.
You miss hangovers.
The sight of vomit/blood/poo/pish/drool and any other bodily fluids have no impact on you whatsoever.
You can video, take a photo with a separate camera, sing happy birthday and blow out the candles at the same time.
You can patronize your single and childless friends with "just wait until you have kids"
You realize what non-returnable really means.
Adult interaction consists of reading emails...including spam.
The thought of watching kids sing old songs out of tune for an hour fills you with excitement and pride.
Juggling looks easy.
You can actually be not two but three places at once.
You can hand out advice like this.
You can watch your kids make and do all the same stupid things you did.
You can listen to your kids going through the same with their kids as you went through with them...and laugh about it.
You can sing the theme songs and know the characters of 72 different kids shows and movies.
Your TV is permanently set on the cartoon channel.
When you have to drive 30 minutes to go get a teddy bear you forgot because your 3 year old WILL NOT sleep without it at 2 am, then you are a mom.
When you HAVE to buy an extra ice cream because Billy (the imaginary friend) needs one too.... and you do it because it's just easier, then you are a mom.
When you are playing "ariplane" and laughing because your precious little child is laughing too and all of a sudden you have a mouth full of baby vomit without warning, then you are a mom.
When you are up until 1 am with a sick baby and you finally get them to sleep... 10 minutes later you go in to check and the diaper has exploded 5 different shades of brown and green shit ALL over the place... Now you are washing sheets until 3 am because they won't sleep without their favorite blankie, then you are a mom.
When you just finished mopping the kitchen floor and your lovely child drops the gallon of grape juice and watches it spread like wildfire under the table, fridge and stove... then says "Ohhh pretty purple!", then you're a mom.
When you wake up to giggling in the kitchen to find your child has 18 eggs cracked all over the table, chairs and floor (don't worry, one is on the plate) and the eggs are mixed with chocolate syrup... you're little chef looks at you proudly and says "Mommy I made breakfast for you" and you just smile, then you are a mom.
When your kid puts the cat in the toilet because they need to wash the marker off before you find out, and now you are kissing kitty scratch boo boo's covered in toilet water JUST to stop the crying, then you are a mom.
Until then... you are NOT a parent. And you have no idea what being a parent is.
And this is one of my favorite little stories about C.A.A.D.D.
C.A.A.D.D.Recently, I was diagnosed with C. A. A. D. D. - Child Activated Attention Deficit Disorder. This is how it manifests:
I decide to do the laundry. As I start toward the
basement, I notice that there are cheerios all over
the floor and my car keys are in the cereal bowl.
I decide to pick up the cheerios before I do the
laundry. I lay my car keys down on the counter, put
the cheerios in the trash can under the counter,
and notice that the trash can is full. So, I decide to
take out the trash.
But then I think, since I'm going to be near the
mailbox when I take out the trash I may as well pay
the bills first. I take my checkbook off the
table, and see that there is only one check left, my extra
checks are in my desk in the office/playroom, so I
go to my desk where I find a sippy cup full of
juice. I'm going to look for my checks, but first I
decide I should put the sippy cup in the
refrigerator to keep it cold.
As I head toward the kitchen with the sippy cup a
vase of flowers on the counter catches my eye --
they need to be watered. I set the sippy cup on the
counter, and I discover baby wipes that I've been
searching for all morning. I decide I better put
them back in the bathroom, but first I'm going to
water the flowers.
I set the wipes back down, fill a container with
water and suddenly I spot the TV remote, one of the
kids left it on the kitchen table. I realize that
after school when they go to watch TV, I will be
looking for the remote as they fight over who lost
it, but I won't remember that it's on the kitchen
table, so I decide to put it back in the den where
it belongs, but first I'll water the flowers.
I splash some water on the flowers, but most of it
spills on the floor. So, I set the remote back
down, get some paper towels and wipe up the spill.
Then I head down the hall trying to remember what I
was planning to do.
At the end of the day: the laundry isn't washed,
the bills aren't paid, there is a warm cup of juice
sitting on the counter, the flowers aren't watered,
there is still only one check in my checkbook, I
can't find the remote, I can't find the wipes, and
I don't remember what I did with the car keys.
Then when I try to figure out why nothing got done
today, I'm really baffled because I know I was
busy all day long, and I'm really tired.
I realize this is a serious problem, and I'll try
to get some help for it, but first I'll check my
myspace.
Labels: adult, babies, dads, family, fathers, funny, kids, life, matenity, parenting, pregnancy, womanhood, women
They Really Are Nosey!
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Didn't I write a post just the other day about store owners being nosey and not minding their own business? Apparently it's more true than I thought.
I use a little box in my store called a "CBox" that's basically a small chat box where I can post updates and people can ask questions. Things were GREAT with it and I had no problem until recently. I won't name names.. but their is a store (it's ALWAYS a military niche store..go figure) who won't stay off of my CBox.
First she wrote a snotty comment on it about how you could "find my Christmas cards at Walmart". I deleted the message because it was snotty and negative. Next she wrote about how she was "so glad my stuff my original and couldn't be found at the local dollar store" and was quite negative and sarcastic. It was the SAME IP address and I simply deleted it yet again.
Now today, she has used her REAL name, using the name of her store and making negative comments and even using MY name (I use "Kimi" when making posts in my CBox) basically talking crap as if I'm being rude to her. Come on! Seriously.. STOP. If you have a problem with my store, email me directly. It's SO easy to get hold of me. There is no need to be so damn immature.
No, you can't find my cards in Walmart. I wish.. because I'd be making a heck of a lot more money. No, my layout isn't someone else's. I made it myself - obviously. If you took the time to go through every page - including my own website, you'd see it all matches and I coded it all myself. And the girl in question shouldn't even dare ask such a thing... she and FIVE other military niche stores are using the SAME layout!!! Get over yourself.
Why is it always the military niche stores that give me problems? I don't know you and in all likely hood, I don't like you. I don't have a military store. I'm absolutely no competition for you. I haven't gone digging in your store or left snotty comments towards you or your stuff. I've never spoken to you. I've never said anything bad about you or to you. So why then have you targeted my store and why are you leaving me rotten comments daily and even trying to impersonate me!? It's childish and stupid. Leave me and my store alone.
Labels: cafe press, cafepress, clothes, crabby, military, women
Why Men Make Terrible Mothers
Friday, September 14, 2007
Deep down, my husband is a loving, caring Father who would do anything for his wife and daughter. But on a day to day basis, he's seriously lacking in the parenting department. Now, I'm not speaking for all men, because I realize there are some wonderful single fathers out there. But my husband has absolutely no common sense when it comes to our child.
My pregnancy was spent with the normal belly hugs, tummy rubs and excitement of becoming parents. My husband constantly told me how excited he was for the arrival of our daughter, and told stories of everything he would do with her - from playing in the park, to watching Sunday morning cartoons together. But something happened when my daughter came into this world... My husband suddenly lost all common sense and clearly has no idea what parenting is about.
Fast forward to today. Today was supposed to be a day for me, and Joe was going to watch our daughter Hailey all day until he had to go to work this afternoon. This included everything - from diaper changes to feeding and playing with her. Little did I know that in the 9 1/2 months our daughter has been in this world, that my husband had paid no attention and hasn't the first clue when it comes to providing for her...not even for just a day. That scares me of course. I mean, I'd like to know that if I croaked tomorrow, my husband could keep our child alive. I honestly don't see that happening.
Here is how the conversation went today when it was time for Hailey's breakfast:
Joe: So um, where's her food?
(I hand him some apple sauce for her to have with some cereal for breakfast)
Joe: Oh, She eats THAT?
Me: No Joseph.. I've been eating it for her.
Joe: Well doesn't she eat formula for like a few more months?
Me: Yes, but not as entire meals any more...and hasn't for a couple of months now.
Joe: So like, do I put it in a bowl...or.....
Me: Good Lord.. just give it to me!
Don't get me wrong, I WANT him to learn! That's why instead of making Hailey wait longer for breakfast, I took and prepared her meal (with him watching) and went to go feed her. He was supposed to pay attention and watch..but of course did not.
I wager that bath time tonight is going to be quite interesting. I'd like to give my husband more credit, but I feel that I will have to stand close by to watch to make sure he doesn't accidentally drown the poor kid.
Labels: babies, dads, family, fathers, funny, Hailey, Joe, kids, life, parenting, pregnancy, rest and relaxation, womanhood, women
Why Women Are Crabby
Monday, September 10, 2007
We started to "bud" in our blouses at 9 or 10 years old only to find that anything that came in contact with those tender, blooming buds hurt so bad it brought us to tears. So came the ridiculously uncomfortable training bra contraption that the boys in school would snap until we had calluses on our backs.
Next, we get our periods in our early to mid-teens (or sooner). Along with those budding boobs, we bloated, we cramped, we got the hormone crankies, had to wear little mattresses between our legs or insert tubular, packed cotton rods in places we didn't even know we had.
Our next little rite of passage (premarital or not) was having sex for the first time which was about as much fun as having a ramrod push your uterus through your nostrils (IF he did it right and didn't end up with his little cart before his horse), leaving us to wonder what all the fuss was about.
Then it was off to Motherhood where we learned to live on dry crackers and water for a few months so we didn't spend the entire day leaning over Brother John. Of course, amazing creatures that we are (and we are), we learned to live with the growing little angels inside us steadily kicking our innards night and day making us wonder if we were preparing to have Rosemary's Baby.
Our once flat bellies looked like we swallowed a watermelon whole and we pee'd our pants every time we sneezed. When the big moment arrived, the dam in our blessed Nether Regions invariably burst right in the middle of the mall and we had to waddle, with our big cartoon feet, moaning in pain all the way to the ER.
Then it was huff and puff and beg to die while the OB says, "Please stop screaming, Mrs. Hearmeroar. Calm down and push. Just one more good push (more like 10)," warranting a strong, well-deserved impulse to punch the %*!* (and hubby) square in the nose for making us cram a wiggling, mushroom-headed 10lb bowling ball through a keyhole.
After that, it was time to raise those angels only to find that when all that "cute" wears off, the beautiful little darlings morphed into walking, jabbering, wet, gooey, snot-blowing, life-sucking little poop machines.
Then come their "Teen Years." Need I say more?
When the kids are almost grown, we women hit our voracious sexual prime in our early 40's - while hubby had his somewhere around his 18th birthday.
So we progress into the grand finale: "The Menopause," the Grandmother of all womanhood. It's either take heart and chance cancer in those now seasoned "buds" or the aforementioned Nether Regions, or, sweat like a hog in July, wash your sheets and pillowcases daily and bite the head off anything that moves.
Now, you ask WHY women seem to be more spiteful than men, when men get off so easy, INCLUDING the icing on life's cake: Being able to pee in the woods without soaking their socks...
So, while I love being a woman, "Womanhood" would make the Great Gandhi a tad crabby. Women are the "weaker sex"? Yeah right. Bite me.
Labels: child birth, crabby, hormones, menopause, periods, pregnancy, womanhood, women
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