Motherhood Uncensored

Like a dead pig in the road

On the way to school today, I was cruising along, listening to the kids sing and cough through "Brush Your Teeth" for the 4th time when I had to hit the breaks and swerve around a huge dead wild pig in the road.

Seriously. Where do I live?

I usually tend to look away from gigantic roadkill, but a big huge ass black pig was a little hard to ignore. And ever since I saw him resting peacefully in the middle of that road, I can't seem to get him off my mind.

With this whole parenting of three while alone a fair amount thing, I never fully feel like I get up to speed. I'm riding high for a few days, maybe even a week, with my organized bedtime routine and preplanned meals and thrice-weekly running program and my skinny ass and a nice new babysitter but then

BAM. I run into a big huge gigantic dead pig in the road.

And I have to slam on the breaks and go around him and then I can't stop thinking about the pig and how terrible he looked and how sad and awful and how all his piggy friends will be missing him and woe is me it's all about me and how tired I am and why won't my baby sleep and take a bottle so I can be freeeeeeeeeee for more than 2 hours at a time and my kids won't stop fighting and coughing and everything is a fucking massive argument JUST LET ME WIPE YOUR ASS BEFORE YOU GET SHIT ON THE COUCH.

I suppose there's something to be said about driving on a long boring road. But after awhile, I guess you'd fall asleep and long for a little action - a couple of twists, a rickety bridge, even some roadkill to stare at.

But those smooth drives, where things are good, tears are few, and smiles are plenty, are simply magic. Granted they never seem to last longer than a few minutes, but even so, I try to remember to bask in boring.

Right now, this very day, I'm forcing myself to drive around the damn "pig" and I'm trying to remember that while there will inevitably be another one in the road, that doesn't mean I need to let him completely ruin my day or worry myself about when he'll pop up next.

Because when it comes down to it, he's just a pig after all.

(No offense, Mr. Pig. RIP).

Make it right

Quinlan and Drew vacillate between love and hate on a conveniently unpredictable schedule. They'll play like bffs right when dinner is ready or when the timer has gone off for bedtime, but when I'm about to hop on a conference call, they decide to initiate World War III.  

Quinlan gives me a running commentary like she's reading from a set of cue cards. 

"Mom, he's kicking me. Now he's jumping on me. He just hit me on my leg."

She's slowly learning to actually do something, other than perfect her tattle telling skills, but even when she pushes him off, or gives him a well-deserved shove, I know she's probably still annoyed. And rightfully so. Little brothers can be a big fat pain in the ass.

So a few nights ago, we were getting ready for bedtime stories when we couldn't find Drew's book. It had literally disappeared into thin air, and after searching high and low for it, I asked Quinlan if she had seen it.

She shrugged her shoulders a few times and gave me the "I know exactly where it is but if I don't talk then it's not technically lying so I'm just going to keep shrugging my shoulders" look.

As it turns out, she had hid it. Not as a joke, but because she had just taken it one too many times from her bratty little brother that day and was going to jab him in the side when he wasn't looking.

Yep. She's already refining her womanly skills at an early stage.

Teaching kids about emotional expression is one of the hardest lessons because they very often get in trouble for expressing them. Annoyance, frustration, and anger get an almost automatic time out or punishment (hello tantrums), so trying to explain to kids that it's okay and even good to express them seems counterintuitive.

Sure, there's the whole thing about expressing it appropriately, you know, like counting to ten, or screaming in your pillow, or telling the person that you are mad "dag gummit" - all of which are clearly not as satisfying as throwing a big ass hissy fit and screaming a few choice obscenities. Did you really think we all actually outgrew tantrums? Please. We just get better verbal skills and the ability to raise a finger or pull down our pants. I've told her 4000 times to tell the person how you feel in actual words and in the back of my head I'm going "And then give 'em the finger!"

But on that night, as I was talking out of my ass, I had a rare mini-epiphany. 

If you don't express your feelings at the time that they occur, you don't give the other person a chance to make it right.

And a light bulb went off in my daughter's head. 

The truth is, when you don't tell someone how you feel when you've been hurt by them (which is what anger generally stems from, really), you're not giving them the chance to learn from it, apologize for it, and most of all make it right by you. You're not holding them accountable for their words and actions.

The backhanded, passive agressive bullshit that many of us (yeah, me included) engage in does absolutely nothing to resolve anything and basically gives them a free pass. And not only does it do nothing to allow the other person to atone, it doesn't give you the opportunity to forgive, which is just as important a process as apologizing.

It's one thing to be able to say you're sorry. It's another to be able to forgive.

I know the kids will still fight. And I know that she'll still want to swipe his toothbrush in the toilet when he's not looking, but I hope that she'll feel empowered by her own emotions, and not powered by them.

There's a huge difference.

7 Months (Belated) - Swinger

 

 

It's not as scary as it sounds

The biggest issue most people seem to have about the 23andMe genotyping is the fact that you're learning about diseases that you might have a propensity for.

That's not the sort of news most people want to hear.

Try "You're going to win the lottery." Now that I could get behind.

But when you really sit and think about it, and get an idea of what sort of disease they're talking about, and what "propensity" really means, you might have a different idea about it all.

Of course, this is not the first thing that runs through your head. You think that you'll open your account and you'll see a big flashing "PARKINSON'S" tab on your screen, and your life will be over.

In reality, the info is presented in such a friendly, scientific way, that it's more fascinating than scary.

When you look at your disease risk report, it's laid out with diseases that you are at high risk, decreased risk, and typical risk. Some of the diseases, like Parkinson's, are actually locked, so you have to click to open up the tab.

I have decreased or typical risks for most of the diseases, including Diabetes Type 1 and 2, Celiac's, Crohn's, and a few others. All that means is that I'm either below or at the average.

The two diseases that I'm at a higher risk for are Psoriasis and Age-Related Macular Degeneration. I definitely have skin and eye issues, though not yet to the degree of either of those conditions. Interestingly enough, my mom isn't at high risk for anything, so what we initially thought had to do with the Asian side of my family obviously does not.

Just another couple of things to blame on my dad, I guess.

[I'm actually at high risk for something that could have affected my pregnancies. I'll talk about that more next week].

Ah, the romance

There's just something ridiculously romantic about an open bar, early 90's rap music, and wedding cake. Or maybe it's just that we were alone together without the kids somewhere other than our living room.

But love was in the air this past weekend.

We'd both spent the entire day racing around after the kids, nursing babies in strapless gowns and stuffing tired toddlers into teeny tuxes.

When we finally had a chance to sit, breathe, and gossip about my mother-in-law's hair, my adorable drunken husband pulled me over (mostly to help him stay upright) and whispered sweet nothings into my ear.

"C'mon honey. I want to make another baby. And then I'll get my balls fixed. I promise."

Let's just say that got him a couple of other blue things to match his vest and tie.