I’d like to think that I’m sympathetic when it comes to other parents.  I have no idea what’s going on in that person’s life to act the way they do.  I don’t want judge other parents because I haven’t walked in their shoes and I don’t want to be judged either.  You may very likely catch me in a less than angelic moment.  It happens.  It happens to all of us.  But on a day like today, when I have a short fuse, yeah, I’ll get up and tell the lady to reign in her dog because it’s constantly barking and scaring a kid.  We’re looking at the same thing (her dog) for quite a length of time.  I keep thinking she’s got to do something other than sit there, right?  Nope.  She just let’s her dog (border collie mix) bark at this 4-ish year old boy who is trying to leave on his motorized toy.  I wondered if she was that way (lackadaisical) with her kids too?

Or what about that kid on the play ground who is just simply a bully (HOPEFULLY just going through a phase).  The little brute hit my kids a few times and the mom totally apologized (poor thing), but the way she corrected him is not making a difference.  I suddenly recall the Definition of Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results (this quote has been attributed to Albert Einstein, Ben Franklin and Rita Mae Brown, that’s an interesting mix).  I don’t want to sound like the arrogant bitch or perfect parent here, but the woman needs some parenting advice stat!  (btw, I LOVE Musings of a Housewife’s Raising Responsible Kid series.  She’s my kind of mamma!)

So instead of opening my mouth and inserting my foot (which could still happen) I have developed a Clueless Parent Prayer that I quietly say to myself (sometimes repeatedly) in hopes that it sends them good vibes or simply sends them away from me.

Dear Clueless Parent, I like to think the best of other parents, really I do.  Don’t we all have our kids’ best intentions at heart?  I’m going to assume that you are doing the best that you can and you don’t know what you don’t know cuz if you knew you were creating a monster you wouldn’t intentionally be raising your kid this way. Amen.

Perspective has its advantages. It’s easy to have an opinion, but tougher to say it to their face (I must have been really irritated with the dog owner this morning). I find it’s easier to live by example.  And if my boys ever acted out like a big bully in front of a bully’s parents, I’d have it be a teaching moment for those parents about how to create well behaved children with manners and respect.  Because my little boys are perfect angels. <insert snort here>

Will someone please get me a drink?  I’m starting early today.  Cheers friends!

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Are these girls parents?  I sure as shit hope not.  I hope this publisher isn’t secretly a supporter of teen moms.  These cover girls look so young (maybe I’m getting too old!), it looks like they could also do a spread for Seventeen magazine and that’s not right.  To borrow a phrase from the Murmurs:  It’s kinda freaky, it’s kinda weird.  Maybe the girls are supposed to be au pairs, nannies, or babysitters.  But wait, isn’t the title of the magazine Parenting?  Well, I’d love to have more parenting support by the way of a nanny, but that’s not what the content of this magazine is about – co-parenting with nannies and other support.  Hmmmm…. I’m confused.

By a majority, parents are two people, most often a man and a woman.  Surely this magazine could find attractive male and female parents in their 20s, 30s or (gasp!) 40s.  I’m sure some of the real subscribers would gladly send in their fancy photo Christmas cards to enter to win a cover shoot (I’m talking the whole family, not just pictures of their tiny tots).  I also know a fantastic group of hot single moms that are most certainly cover girl material.  That also would make great content (single mom parenting) for an issue.  Let’s not forget the gays.  I know some brilliant same sex parents that would love to represent.  C’mon there’s nothing cuter than two hot gay dads or hotter than two lipstick lesbians that are moms.

So Parenting Magazine, stop kidding me and wise up.  Get rid of your Seventeen cover girl and get some REAL PARENTS on the cover.  Do you really think that a callow girl and cute kid sells?  No, controversy sells!  So I’m gonna blow the whistle on your cover girls, and you’re your publisher, Bonnier, will be pleased.  Because, really isn’t it only a matter of time that you’ll be closing your doors like so many magazines these days.  Why not go out with a bang!

Friends and readers, if you’re at all moved to shake your fist, please send an email to susan@parenting.com and feel free to cut and paste the following:

Dear Parenting Magazine:  Stop kidding me!  Please use real parents on your cover and not callow Seventeen cover girls.  You are writing for parents not au pairs.  Will the real parents please stand up?  Represent.

That’s all I have to say about that.  Pull up a chair, pour a drink and conversate.  Cheers friends!

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Ok look, it may simply be that any house guest that stays with us for 18 days I’d feel the same way about.  But this is Husband’s Mother and she comes from Toronto so I know she wants to stay and enjoy the boys for as long as she can.  I’m perfectly clear now (as if I wasn’t before) that she’s not here to spend time with me.  It is all about her son and grandkids.  I’m ancillary to the whole process.  However and strangely enough, I’m the one that’s home with her the most.  I guess I do have fantasies about us doing girly things together like shopping, laughing over lunch, or enjoying each other’s company, but I really need to reset my expectations.  Much, much lower.  We share so few interests.  Well, ok, except Husband and the kids, but that’s already been established.

I make great efforts at being a good daughter-in-law.  To prepare for her visit I get distilled water for her sleeping machine, I fill the cupboards with snacks, plan meals taking into consideration all the things she doesn’t like, put the beautiful flowers outside as not to aggravate her allergies, I wash all the sheets in detergent for sensitive skin.  I prepare every dinner and breakfast on the weekends.  I even ask her to plan and cook a dinner one or two days a week.  I invite her to my social events.  I go shopping with her at the big lady store and help her pick out clothes (that she usually buys).  I ask for parenting advice and honestly seek her input.  However, a thank you for dinner every once in a while would be nice.  Patting me on the back and saying that I’m doing a good job with the house, the kids, or my husband would be great too.  I feel like she makes zero effort toward our relationship or saying anything nice to me.  It’s like we just exist here together and my house is getting smaller with all the crap lying around.  God knows I’m not picking up after her too.  But I do try to contain it a bit.

After inviting her to three social events and her continually declining I asked why.  She said she just wanted to be “with her family.”  “But I’m your family too,” sounding more desperate than I wanted.  “Yeah, but I’m with you all day,” she replied.  Okay.  I get it.  And I need to let go that when she asks for family pictures before she leaves that I’m not included that either.

She’s an awesome Grandma.  She brings lots and lots of toys for the kids.  She eagerly puts them to bed, changes diapers, dresses them in the morning, reads them books and plays games.  I love that.  I really do.  I’m so glad that my kids will really know their Grammie & Grampie well.  They are also very generous when it comes to their gifts.  My FIL slept in our bed while we were away in Palm Springs over night (post coming!).  And ewww…yes, I was freaked out that he voluntarily slept there without an invitation or sheet change.  (But I’m working on getting over it!)  Anyway, for Christmas he decided to get us a new bed, a really nice one.  Very generous and so-not on my Christmas list.  But yes, thankful nonetheless.  Our old bed was (tainted now that he slept there) and lumpy.  And it was awesome that they were okay with Husband & I getting out of town for 24 hours.

I feel guilty in all my complaining.  Really, it could be worse.  I know that.

Truthfully I’m tired, frustrated and want to let these hurt feelings go.  I want to reorganize the house and claim it back!  I should have done more writing and yoga while she was here.  That would have helped.  I should have said the serenity prayer more.  That may have also helped.  I wish I didn’t sweat the small stuff with her here.  (Thanks Maria for the advice, you’re right.  I do need to shut up and get over it!)

I honestly did try the path of acceptance but found it really rocky and my feet are sore. I tried the path of avoidance and hid out in my room more.  That was nice.  I tried having a better sense of humor but all I could hear was my evil, dark angel on my shoulder saying things that I shouldn’t say out loud (it still helped me get through though).

Well, the one thing that I know I can control is how long she’ll be visiting next time.  I think 14 days is more than enough.   We will never do 18 days again while I’m a SAHM.  Who’s laughing now?  Me.  And yes, it’s my dark angel laugh.  I’m going to go pour a large of glass of wine.  To hell with it.  I don’t care that it’s 2:00.  I’m celebrating.  I learned my lesson.

P.S. Thank you to LOL Dogs for the image.  They are always good for a few laughs.

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First stop, BevMo.  You know today was the last day of the 5 cent sale.  Gotta stock pile while you can.  Yes, we walked over to TJ Maxx to return that ridiculous blouse.  (What ever was I thinking?)  And we were all laughs, the boys were running, the sun was shining down…la la la.  They had a snack to keep the good mood going on our Monday routine.  On to the grocery store we go.

We were fine going in.  But I did something stupid.  To be nice, I gave the boys a chocolate donut.  Ok, I got a bite too.  But that was really dumb of me looking back.  Typically, I swing by the bakery section for a sugar cookie, but they weren’t into it and saw the chocolate donuts with sprinkles.  I was suckered in for the moment.  I. Will. Never. Do. That. Again.

I won’t go into the total gory details.  Let’s just cut to the chase.  BabyD has a complete meltdown in the dairy section.  Screaming so loudly.  He wants down.  Because he’s a total Californian, he also thinks he can walk around the grocery store bare footed.  I think that’s gross.  So no.  He doesn’t like that.  He won’t sit down in the cart.  He won’t walk with shoes.  More screaming.  I hold. I bribe. I pat his back.  I give him a time out against the yogurts.  Nothing works.  Just 3 more items to go.  He weighs 35 pounds and I cannot (and will not) carry him and push the cart while BigBoy is on the end.  I can’t steer for god’s sakes.  Still screaming and I can’t tell if I purchased the pork chops on sale or not.  Shit.

Do I just leave this full basket right here and yank my kids out of the store?  Only 2 more items to go.  Can’t we pull it together and get out of here calmly?  A lady approaches offering anything in her cart to make the screaming stop.  Another lady nods with sympathy.  BabyD is still screeching down the cracker isle.  An old lady humphs, gives me the stink eye, and puts her fingers in her ears as I walk by.  Really. I’m not kidding. [read the title of this post]

I actually get him calmed down enough to help me unload the cart. Somewhat.  Still a mild level of sobbing.  I’m forced to pick him up, sorta steer (just barely missed the big woman in the electric cart).  Let’s just get out of here!!!  People were staring.  I get to the car, unload, get in, and pull out of the parking lot and scream.  A few times.  Now BigBoy’s crying because I’ve scared him.  I apologize and I think he really gets it.  He’s tired of BabyD crying too.

I need to rearrange when I do the grocery shopping.  I can’t do it with two.  Forget it.  Yes, I’m an idiot and gave him the donut.  Yes, it was close to his nap time.  But the last two times we were at the grocery store were challenging too.  I’ve got to make a change to save myself.  This was TOO MUCH.

Nap time then wasn’t long enough and there was another round of melt downs later in the day.  Somehow, I got through it and eventually got past my anger and frustration.  5:30 couldn’t come fast enough.  Here’s the funny part.  BigBoy at dinner said that it would all be better if BabyD was a big brother too.  Husband and I had to laugh.  What else are you going to do after a day like today?  Cheers, I’m having three glasses tonight.

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Oh no. Not you? Who’d it be? Certainly not me!

Yes, it’s true. I’ve become THAT woman.  You know the one. The woman you talk about with your closest girlfriend (who I call my “sistafriends”), where you can throw around the dirt and it’s safe – the conversation doesn’t leave the kitchen counter (or wine bar).  Not that YOU do that.  But THAT woman where you say, “poor thing, the kids have taken over” or “Wow. There’s too much crap in her house” or maybe even, “She’s losing it.”  I felt bad for THAT woman and wondered if she had given up or was just too overwhelmed?  C’mon, how hard is it to stay home with the kids?  I mean really, people.

Well, here I am.  I’ve become Her.  I used to say those things, but now I don’t.  I GET IT.  It’s hard to keep it all together – the groceries, the cleaning (what little I do of it…always pressing up against my line of what I can tolerate vs. getting away with), the constant flow of laundry (oh the laundry!), doing the dishes, making lunch, fixing dinners, wiping noses, changing diapers, applying band aids, picking up, picking up, picking up, not to mention the numerous interruptions when I’m actually trying to do something that doesn’t directly involve the kids (you know, like the bills, responding to an email, looking for a job, trying to blog, returning calls, scheduling a playdate, etc.).

How was I ever a full time working mom of two plus a husband?  I still cooked, picked up, read books, returned person emails, called friends.  But the truth of the matter is that a) I had a house cleaner and b) I didn’t spend anytime with the kids and in fact, BigBoy didn’t like me very much.  That wasn’t good.  So yes, there is a good payoff, but does it have to be my sanity?

So here I am.  My house looks like the toy box vomited.  Everywhere.  In the living room, kitchen, dining room, my office/playroom and on the stairs.  You’ll find toys in the master bedroom, hallway, guest room, boys’ bathroom, and all over their floor and in ever nook and cranny of their rooms.  Stepping on a piece of plastic at anytime (particularly at night) can send me on a fiery rage instantly, but no, I keep my cool.  But it’s pushing me close to the edge.  It’s certainly driving me to drink more (but not like Sally) and little tokey now and again, which certainly has been a hot topic around the Bloghersphere.  But we’ll address those issues at a later time.

I know people excuse the mess by saying, “what do you expect with two kids under five?”  Well quite frankly I expect a bit more organization and a little less chaos.  Thankyouverymuch. Oh I don’t mind a little mess.  You should see my desk or the linen closet.  But c’mon all over the house?  How many times a day do I have to pick up this shit?

And might I say, comparatively, we don’t have that much stuff.  I limit the toys to one toy box for Big Boy, one for BabyD, and one downstairs in the office/playroom.  Anymore than that is too much.  But it’s like Pandora’s box, once it’s opened, it goes everywhere!!!  Yes, I make sure the boys pick up right before Husband gets home, so he’s not freaked out when he walks in the door.  Really, I just want him to take the kids outside and play (read: away from me) so I can cook, have a glass of wine, and relax a bit, rather than him having to pick up after us.

Is it just a case of keeping calm and carrying on?  How do I untangle my sanity being related to all this crap on the floor?  I need a system or I will be driven to more substance use or the loony bin.  I did a good job this weekend going through Big Boy’s toy box eliminating the little pieces of crap, toys he doesn’t play with, and basically the toys that I hate.  I did receive good feedback like “hey Mom, I found my little man that I’ve been missing!”  But I still have the downstairs to do.  It’s like cleaning the toilets, someone has to do it.  It’s gonna be me.  I hate it.

Then I probably need to do this every six months.  And train them (and myself) to pick up before going to bed.  Nothing makes my day start out with a groan like walking downstairs and seeing the living room floor covered with toys.  Ugh jen, get a grip on yourself, woman!

Also, do you think it bad of me to ask guests to the boys’ birthday parties not to bring gifts of toys?  Will this permanently dement my children?  Both of the boys’ birthdays come right after the holidays and the expense and consumption of the season never really sits right with me.  I’ll tackle that one later.

For now, let me just say thanks to my sistafriends Bryn and Lola who help me with this craziness and those friends I have yet to meet, JerseyGirl and Mrs. FussyPants (and the other funny women on the blogosphere).  Thank you for making me laugh through my path as a SAHM and being THAT woman.  She’s not so bad.  I’m learning to not suffer through my insanity and love every minute of it.  Cheers ladies!

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However yesterday there was an incredible theme to my day that kept rearing its head and would not go away.  So there’s a lesson here for me to hear.  Hopefully it will make sense to you as my writing skills are still developing.

It all starts with Jon Gosselin.  I really don’t want to talk about it all that much because the thought of giving either Jon or Kate anymore airtime makes me want to vomit.  This is just a place to start the story.  However, I begin with the quote for the day.

“I took a lot of abuse from her. I was put down,” Jon Gosselin tells ABC’s Chris Cuomo in an interview set to air next week.”

He bugs me so terribly that two words come to mind.  Douchebag and Fuktard (thank you Sista Sista for that great word!).

I dunno. Do you think that Guy Ritchie has been mouthing off to the press that Madonna told him what to do?  To me, the simple fact of the matter is that he (both Jon and Guy) married a strong woman.  [can’t stand the thought of putting Madonna and Kate in the same sentence.  Madonna is The Queen afterall.  However, Kate’s got 8 kids.  She’s remained (somewhat) upbeat, attractive, and appears she hasn’t lost her mind yet.  She’s on the road to sainthood in my book. But how many kids does Madonna have now??? Anyway, I digress…]   I suspect that being attracted to a strong woman is probably what attracted those guys in the first place and I suspect that same quality is what also did them in.

So why does Jon have to publicly wail and lick his wounds?  In Las Vegas or Nice of all places?  Does he ever watch old episodes?  I’d yell at him too if he was moping around with that attitude and not keeping up.  Kate runs a tight ship, but the gal gets the job done.  There are eight kids, afterall!  I only have two and I think organizing and getting the kids underway everyday is tough!  Get on board or get off, I say.  However, why play the victim?  Or the playboy?  Go away, Jon.  Recover.  But keep the kids in perspective, Buddy.  You’re losing at your own game.  Go home., Jon.  Chill out with the kids and don’t pick up the phone.  I swear, he is like a bad drunk at a party.  You just want to tell the guy to go home before it gets any worse.

Strangely, Jon really got me thinking (along with some other conversations with friends along the day).  How stupid are we all?  We complain about the very thing that we asked for and then we don’t take responsibility for our relationships taking a downturn.  That doesn’t seem right to me.  For example, we (I think I’m not the only one who’s done this) fall in love with someone and that very quality that we loved is now what we say is pulling us a part.  We fall in love with someone that is…strong…or dependable, and we have a whole story, psychobabble, and reasons for why we want what we want.  We justify.  And then months or sometimes years, it is that very quality that we start complaining about.  What is wrong with us?  I am an idiot.

I can see me doing that with my husband.  He is Steady Eddy.  It is one of his best qualities.  I am learning (oh how I’m learning…) that strong and steady wins the race.  However, if I am to complain about him there are plenty of stories of me rebelling against his some of his biggest strengths.

I mean, didn’t we realize what we signed up for?  It’s not like the person has really gone and changed all that much.  Maybe I’ve changed or my perspective has just changed.  Sometimes that sucks.  Really badly sucks.  But if you’re committed (in the sense that divorce is not an option ) then you probably have to work your shit out.  Communication is always going to be the answer the question, “So what’s missing?”  And I’m learning that generally starts with me needing to communicate more.  (like hey Jen, why are you writing a blog and not talking to your husband more…duh!)

So I’ve set up game night on Monday nights.  I’m committed to putting the kids down at 8:00 (earlier if I can make it work so I’m downstairs at that time).  Husband and I have fell in love playing cards or pool, so it’s a good way of spending time together.  Plus we both like to win and it’s a great metaphor for our relationship.  Monday was our first night. We played rummicube.  It ending up being a very good night (eventhough I lost).

The second thing I know that I need to be doing is to sing praises in my heart and out loud of the things that I love or appreciate about my husband.  I’m practicing to have more positive thoughts in and around him then those shitty, complaining, whining thoughts about him (or our relationship).  Remember, Pollyanna had a very happy life.  And if it works , I’ll do it.  I want the scales to tip in the positive direction.  Stay tuned…I’m sure I’ll write more about my struggles in this lesson.

So when we’re all stressed out about our relationships and not feeling like we’re getting what we want.  Or the other person is this that or the other thing (I’m saying this out  loud as much for my own benefit as my friends from yesterday) I think it’s important to, yes as cliché as it is or as painful as it may be, count your blessings and talk.  Why is this so hard for so many of us.  It seems simple.  Simple, but not easy.

So friends, thank you for helping me sort my shit out.  I’m going to have a very well deserved glass of wine and will be thinking good thoughts of you.  Cheers, friends!

P.S.  I think Guy Ritchie is hawt and a king in another life and time I would have gladly served.  Jon is still a douchebag even though I am an idiot too.  Go home Jon and out of the spotlight.  We don’t want to hear it anymore.

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