May I have your attention please?

Attention future parents, moms to be, toddlers playing house and mommy on the playground-let this be your official warning: Parenting.IS.challenging.

And no, I am not just talking about the sleep deprivation and self induced crankiness that follows. While that first part sucks, apparently, no one tells you that it just gets more and more challenging. Sure, there are joys to go with it too--first smiles, first steps, first words, hugs, kisses, etc. And these are the things that will get you through. But truly, just like with pregnancy, the general public just does not forewarn you about all the not so fun stuff. Let's categorize this into five categories.

Sight-the THINGS you will see. Dear lord, prepare yourself. You will see kids put their hands in their pants, pull it out, and then (wait for it)-SNIFF. Ack. You will see way too much ass crack. You will see nose picking. You will see too much.

Sound-the NOISE. The level of noise. The whining. The crying, The screaming. The repeating the things you say, and it is only the choice words at the most inopportune times such as shit, dammit, and so on.

Smell-See my first anecdote in sight. Way too much poop smell, and vomit smell. Too much.

Taste-well, this can be good or bad. Sometimes, you have to taste a child made concoction. Something like raisins and peanut butter and pickles all stuck together in a ball. Ack. On the other hand, a sweet slobbery popsicle kiss can be oh so sweet.

Touch-While there can a lot of touching, too much sometimes, there really is nothing as sweet as a kid snuggle or a bear hug. The problem is, those seem to be fewer and farther between lately.

In any event, the point is this: parenting is like a roller coaster. You make it up the hill of sleep deprivation and then you breeze down the hill of they can't move yet or talk yet and all they do is smile! AH. But before you know it, you are climbing the hill of the terrible twos. And then you coast down through consistent naptimes. Then you climb through potty training and breeze through NO.MORE.DIAPERS. And then before you know it, you realize you have made it through all the checklists and now, your primary role, as it has always been but possibly clouded by those milestones and checklists, is to raise a good, honest human being. One who makes good choices, who is kind and honest, who can make friends easily and can be a loyal friend. One who will look to you and watch your every move and will try to be like you, thinking you are the be all and end all. Now is the time that I should be on my best behavior, at a time that I feel is so challenging and overwhelming as a parent. Sigh.

So, let me reiterate. Parenting. Is. Challenging. Buckle up. You are in for a wild ride.

I have more today....

OK, two quick things--First things first. Today it happened. The thing I hoped would never happen and the thing that has happened before but not to this level.....drum roll please: One of my kids turned into a class A brat in a store whining and crying and begging and stomping feet making ridiculous pleas for ridiculous toys and other miscellaneous crap. It was hard for me to remain patient, but I did....until I didn't. And when I could no longer be patient, I became that mom, the crazy mom, getting down to her child's level, talking between clenched teeth and telling her (yes, now you know it was not John) to cut the sh*t. So, all you 20 somethings young and in love and you newlyweds with no children or little babies in tow and making your judgements, JUST LIKE I DID, let this be your warning. IT.WILL.HAPPEN.TO.YOU. Sure, you will be a better mom, you will never let your kids act that way, you will have it all together, blah blah blah. I repeat. IT.WILL.HAPPEN.TO.YOU.

OK, second agenda item---girls clothing. All I really have to say is WOW. Is it really necessary to dress little girls like complete whores. I mean, geez, while we are at it, why not get them all breast implants and botox at age 5. Good god. It is getting more and more challenging to dress my kids like the little girls they are as opposed to the little hookers you clothing manufacturers would like them to be. Please, BACK OFF and let them have an innocent childhood, let them enjoy brief underwear and allow them to wear a one piece bathing suit with pride. And no, a monokini does not count as a one piece here. Good lord. really??? Perhaps I should go into clothing design. I know nothing about it, but what I do know is that no little girl needs hip huggers, low riders, skinny jeans, trashy undies or midriff baring shirts to name but a few.

OK, rant over. Enjoy the Oscars!

The Slumber Party

This weekend, due to some home reovations, we had the first Dowling family slumber party in the basement. I had the place set up so nicely. Pull out couch for me and Sean, and two double sized aerobeds for the kids. I made them, put all their necessary stuffies and other random items on the bed, put a few night lights in appropriate places, rented a G rated family flick, got some popcorn, etc etc. All they could possibly need.

We went to a friend's house for dinner and arrived home around 8:15. Kids were in jammies. Movie went in and I hoped for a quiet drift off into slumber, with Horton Hears a Who lulling everyone into happy sleep. HA! How naive I am. The issues began quickly. There was drama over blanket distribution, space per child, amount of popcorn each child was given to start. There was also a lot of whispering and giggling, which was cute for the first 15 minutes or so but then quickly wore on my nerves.

We quickly moved into phase two of annoyances--all body related and not pleasant: poops, coughing, a loose tooth that was barely hanging on.... Phase two led to phase three--the overtired and extremely dramatic WHINE! This is where I lost my patience. I held on for a long time, but then, just like that, I LOST.MY.PATIENCE. Folks, it was not pretty. It was riddled with me making ridiculous threats about people sleeping in the garage with the mice---not my proudest parenting moment.....

At about 11:30 all were finally asleep, but there were several more wake up calls in them iddle of the night. And somehow, the two men of the house slept through it all. That ability to sleep through ANYTHING chromosome....we women got gipped.

Sweet Dreams

Whining as an Olympic event....

Whhhhhhyyyyy does everyone haaaaaaaaaaave to whiiiiiiiiine so much around here???? Seriously, they wake up in perfect whining form. If there were an Olympic event for whining, my kids would be fighting one another for gold. Seriously.

I used to consider myself a fairly patient and laid back person. I had fun at parties, could tell a funny joke, had a good sense of humor and was all around easy going. Cue the dramatic music. Then I had kids. A lot of kids. Whom I love. With all of my heart. So much it hurts sometimes. But, they also whine. ALOT.

Now, I am able to admit that when I was younger and less wise (and before I knew what the day in and day out of parenting REALLY looked like, not what they paint in books about crafting and tummy time and all peaches and cream), I used to wonder why these often overtired frumpy looking moms could not keep their kids quiet or tell them no and that be the end of the story.
Cue the dramatic music. Then I had kids. A lot of kids. Whom I love. With all of my heart. So much it hurts sometimes. But now I get it. It is hard, really hard, to be patient all of the time with little beings who can tweak your nerves in a way you never knew possible until you had them.

So, my kids whine and lately, I find myself whining back. Which makes me laugh a little inside because it is so stupid. I am trying to get my spawn to stop whining and here I am whining back at them. No parenting book would approve. No child psychologist would approve. And I know, no twenty something, size zero with a nose ring chick, would even remotely have a clue as to how hard this whole mommy thing really is. But one day she will learn....oh yes, indeed she will learn.

Dreaming of a whine free zone-
Mommy Dearest

Two, Four, Six, Eight...

who do we appreciate??...blah blah blah. No. This is not part of a sweaty gym cheer routine. Instead, this is an all out rant on my ever growing self. I am a growing girl indeed.

Today I decided to tackle my bedroom closet since it has been bursting at the seams with clothes, junk, shoes, kids' miscellaneous projects and papers, and a whole lot of other crap. Let me start by telling you that I got rid of four bags of stuff in this cleanout and I feel quite accomplished with that. However, what I did not like was the array of sizes in my closet and the fact that the size that now fits me is the biggest size in my closet. I just seem to be expanding. Now, I am all about being a real woman...I truly despise the bony shoulders and the sunken rib cage. That repulses me. On the flip side, I also despise the muffin top and the flappy arms. Why has it suddenly become so hard to maintain a steady weight?

When I was 17, a size 2 was no problem. I had no hips, tiny boobs, a flat stomach, and rockin legs if I may say so myself because I walked or ran five miles every day. When I was in college, I put on the freshman 15 with all the beer guzzling I did, but I still managed to stay a size 4 and was quite content with that. Then I graduated into the real world, kept drinking a lot of beer and now had money to buy pizzas and wings, so I went up to a six. Fine, no problem. I will be a six forever. Then I got married and settled into a couch potato routine with my better half. Love is great, but I hate eight....and an eight I then was. And then, cue the drum roll, I decided to have kids, and decided to have them two at a time no less, and well, with that, and with now 6 years of parenting and grilled cheeses and chicken nuggets and mac and cheese and little motivation to get off my ass when I actually do have free time, I am now embracing the double digit size ten.

I am attempting to start climbing back down the ladder, but as I now know, it gets harder to take off as the years keep adding up. I never believed that when I was 17. Wish I had listened!

So, for now, I am learning to embrace the ten....until I have to get into a bathing suit and then you will hear me screaming profanities all while trying to remain calm and zenlike. Then in my anger, I will go get a coke and fries....damn dirve thrus, they are not helping my cause.

Love yourself and all that it has to offer!

Valentine's Day

So, with a show of hands, how many parents out there really could do without the "must do crafts" part of your job description? C'mon....I KNOW I am not the only one, I promise this is anonymous...ok, I see a few hands, but I know some of you are closet craft haters. I, for one, am officially out of the closet.

Well, Valentine's Day with four kids meant that on the one hand, I received some cute crafts (but I must add, the cuteness factor goes up several notches because I DID NOT HAVE TO BE INVOLVED in any of the gluing, cutting, pasting, coloring, painting, sticking, and so on). On the other hand, it also meant helping all of them prepare their Valentine's cards for school. First of all, who was the brainiac behind the tiny Valentine cards when kids who are just learning to write tend to write unusually large letters and cry when they cannot fit their whole name on the card. Next up is stickers, because that same brainiac felt the need to add a second step to the process. And let us not forget the ones where you are to insert a lollipop or a pencil through a precariously small little hole, one that no child can feed the lolly or pencil into....EVER.

Now, I do not want to come off as a party pooper or a Valentine's Day hater, but I will say that I prefer the innocent kiss, the I love you scribbled on a scrap piece of paper, or any other gesture expressing love that does not involve the preparation and craftiness involved in the classroom Valentine card.

With Love
Cupid

Potty Pooper...or not

OK, so the little guy is now 4 and was only potty trained a few months prior to turning 4, but we were finally living in a house in which everyone peed and pooped in the potty....until Sunday. For some reason, he has regressed, he is on strike, he is plain old lazy---one thing is for sure, there have been far too many wet pants the past three days.

So, I am calling on you--oh medical experts, psychoanalysts, perfect parents, potty boot camp instructors, peers who poop in the pot, and so on and so forth. Please share your wisdom, come into my home, exorcise the demons, do what you must and I will turn my eyes. Please, bring us back to the crapper once and for all.

Thanks in advance!