Motherhood Uncensored

It could be worse. It can always be worse.

I thought that the toilet was the one place where I could rest assured that for five entire minutes while #2 is being shown who's boss there would be no tomfoolery of the near three-year-old variety. 

Parenting Dictionary

Noun: The potty. Defintion: A veritable toddler straight jacket in the form of a porcelain bowl that holds tiny butts in one place.

Yeah right.

As it turns out, I overestimated the maturity level of my near three-year-old and the confining qualities of the toilet because during the small span of the 2.43 minutes between him screaming "I'm DOOOOOOOOOONE" and me getting there [which by the way should be noted that he screams "I'm done" at least three times before he is actually done and I have yet to figure out why he screams it when he's not actually done because how are you fooled by your own poop I mean don't you know that you're not done and if so why bother yelling it other than trying to torture your poor mother slowly and painfully because she once accidentally hit a squirrel with her car another life and didn't stop and now it's payback time] he unraveled yet another roll of toilet paper and covered the entire bathroom in baby soap.

But instead of bursting into tears, I cracked a beer, cleaned the entire bathroom with the toilet paper and soap, and then thanked him that it was the soap he decided to spread around the room.

And not poop.

I miss my daddy

"She's crying because she misses her daddy," he said, as I strapped Margot into her carseat while she screamed and thrashed like I was trying to hog tie her.

"You're probably right, Drew," I replied. "Sometimes I cry when I miss Daddy. Do you miss him too?"

"Yes I do. I do miss my daddy."

*****

Drew has been the only one to verbally express his feelings about the physical absence of my husband. Every now and then, without predictability or an easily determined trigger, he'll tell me that he misses him. 

Quinlan has been less verbal, the strain of being the oldest in a one parent household made obvious in her more that usual outbursts. Her frustration and over 15 minute long fit over a ripped paper on her homework assignment is completely uncharacteristic. And yet, I don't fault her.

We're all on edge. We all miss him, in our own way.

*****

The more my kids need my attention, the less I feel I have to give - stretched between doing work and keeping up with the house, both of which I actually enjoy because it passes the time. The burden is lightened by neighbors taking my oldest two for playdates and bringing me meals twice a week.

My upcoming half-marathon training (HOLY SHIT!) is keeping me in a pretty steady routine, and the book (THE BOOK!) is an equally exciting and frightening distraction, with unedited copies in the hands of real people, some of whom are not my friends and don't actually have to like it.

Heh.

I've also taken to putting together weekly care packages for him, a task I relish because I don't even bother worrying about prices or coupons or whether that organic beef jerky is on sale.

I figure it's a small price to pay.

Last week I created a short Power Point presentation with pictures and a few words for the kids to watch as a way to stay somewhat connected to him.

And let's be honest. It makes a fantastic bedtime story replacement. One less thing to do before bedtime is like winning the golden ticket on some nights.

Plus maybe if they see him every night, it'll make the pangs of missing him, however they manifest themselves on a daily basis, a little less painful. For all of us.

Daddy's Tour of Duty Slideshow by Cool Mom Picks

View more presentations from Kristen Chase.

[I created this slide show as part of an advertising campaign on Cool Mom Picks. I was not asked or required to post it here on this blog, but since this blog has now become DDB (Depressing Deployment Blog) I figured it was appropriate].

Survival skills

My husband caught me on IM a few nights ago, which would generally be super awesome except the man can't type for shit. 

God knows how he made it through four years of college typing with two fingers. Granted, he's pretty damn accurate, but when you're typing about as fast as my 5-year-old daughter, you damn sure should not be making any mistakes.

They put them through gun training, and every other survival skill, but how about teaching them how to type quickly so they can communicate (and hell, even get it on [audio link]) with their spouses in more than grunts and emoticons.

What about relationship survival skills?

I started chattering on about my day, and then waited anxiously for his reply only to get "huh?"

It took him that long to write four freaking characters?

We're doomed.

I've come to learn that if he had a few hours to type out a few sentences, he probably would respond to my page long emails, but unfortunately for me, he's a faster reader than he is a typer.

In fact, he's so bad that he spelled Margot's name wrong in his last email.

Thankfully, the almost daily 15-minute phone calls make up for what he lacks in keyboard skills. We all clamor to the phone, the kids fighting over who gets to talk to him first. I try to give him a rundown of what's going on without tearing up. And the kids have adapted to conversations over a satellite phone; they speak loudly and clearly, holding the phone as close to their ear - so much so that they often inadvertently hang up on him, leaving me to deal with the devastated child who ended our lifeline to him before the time was actually up.

At my prompting, Quinlan is keeping a daily journal for him, with one sentence and a corresponding drawing that communicates the highlight of each day. It's fascinating to see what a five year old deems as important to tell her dad.

Apparently it's not that far from what a 33-year-old thinks is important.

I smell a blogger in the making.

[Unrelated PSA: If you happen to be a blogger in Phoenix or Las Vegas (or know one), please email me motherhooduncensored[at]yahoo[dot]com]

When you're smiling

I decided that a change of scenery might do us good, so on the invitation of Great Wolf Lodge (and a big, free lodgey-type room with "bunkbeds!!!!!!!!!!!" to quote my children), I drove five hours north to Concord, North Carolina.

[This is the part of my post where I pay homage to the DVD player, headphones, and handy case that hangs from the back of my headrest that I bought and I don't care how much you hate DVD players in cars and "we survived without them as kids so just play the alphabet game with your two year old" WHO DOESN'T KNOW THE ALPHABET but oh my God my sanity AMEN]

All weekend people treated us like my husband was sleeping in the room, which is probably code for "nuts."

The chipper craft club helpers told Drew "you can take that picture back to your room to show daddy."

Let's just say if Daddy were here, Mommy would not be lugging all three children through an indoor water park alone, and Daddy sure as hell would not be sleeping in bed while I was doing it.

The same thing happened at the restaurant. "Wait. So there isn't anyone else joining you?"

"God, I wish" I said, over the cacophony of my children banging chopsticks on the table.

I left a larger tip for the server who would have to clean up the rice bomb that went off around our seating area.

I admit, this trip has been almost equally as stressful as it has been fun. In fact, when I got here, it was seemingly more stressful.

Add in the gihugic water park, meals in places other than our own kitchen, and a couple of pretty tired kids, and I was about to pack things up and go home.

Drew has rendered me a nearly ineffective parent these last few weeks, and I find myself resorting to threats and bribes and behaviors that just don't represent me as a parent. Or well, as a good one, anyway.

And I realized that amidst their excitement of being here, their sheer "dance around the room talk to me until my head falls off" excitement, I hadn't smiled once.

I'd barked. I'd threatened. I'd even yelled.

But not even the tiniest grin.

That's just not a memory I'm willing to give my kids.

Don't get me wrong. I've still done my share of raised voice talking and not-so-effective parenting techniques. When Quinlan woke up both younger kids with her loud, headphones on "THE DVD IS OVER, MOM" when I was sitting right next to her, I gave her the glare of the century.

But I've also held tiny hands jumping waves, cheered for big girls riding down even bigger water slides, and cuddled them all closely whenever I can.

I've praised them for the small things - the little itty bitty things that generally go unnoticed but still deserve appreciation.

"I love you to the farthest away place!" Quinlan said.

"I love you to Australia!" I said.

"I love you to Af-a-ghan-a-i-stan," Drew said.

How can you not smile at that?

I can't promise them that I'll always be smiling, but I can promise them that I'll do my best to never forget how.

You've gotta get them vaccinated

There are only three men I'd fly alone with three kids for.

My husband, Ryan Reynolds, and David Wescott.

David's just one of those good eggs, albeit a self-admitted PR flack, but when he asks me to do something, it goes high on my priority list, especially when it has to do with vaccines.

Yes, that's right. While moms from across the blogosphere were being wooed by Nestle, a small handful of us (some of whom I helped suggest) were donning disposable lab coats and shower caps to explore the inner workings of the GlaxoSmithKline vaccine facility.

I told you I live the glamorous life.

Now before you try to call me a "sell out" like a few of my colleagues who attended this event were accused of being - because you're right, getting plane tickets, a rental car, and a deli platter lunch to listen to a series of vaccine experts and factory managers discuss diseases is completely selling out (you got me!) - let me tell you why I went:

I reallllllly wanted to spend 45 minutes at 8pm on a Thursday night strapping three car seats into a Kia Minivan at the National Car Rental joint.

Okay, not really. But seriously, car seats are hard to do in the dark people.

I can assure you it was not for the free "vacation." The trip to Marietta, Pennsylvania with my three children, that included dropping them off with my in-laws and then driving two hours from Philly and back was not a vacation. 

Nor was it for the swag.

I got a lined notepad and bic pen so I could take notes.

At least I didn't have to fight anyone over it.

We're not boycotting pads and pens are we?

Phew.

No people. I went because I'm an academic. Or I used to be. You know, when my brain wasn't jello. And I'm very interested and I'll be honest, skeptical, of certain vaccines.

My level of fear and understanding about vaccines has evolved since having my oldest daughter. It's hard, as a parent, to swallow the numerous research studies and news reports that clearly show the efficacy of vaccines along with the equally numerous stories of parents dealing with adverse reactions to such vaccines.

I've also experienced two ends of the vaccine spectrum.

My sister died in 1980 from complications from Hib, which has now been almost completely eradicated thanks to the vaccine of the same name. 

My husband's aunt died in 1960-something from complications related to the old DPT vaccine.

So when you say vaccines don't do anything, you're wrong.

And if you say people don't have bad reactions to them, you're wrong too.

I'm not surprised, nor am I offended, that the group that spoke with us, including the facility director and on-staff pediatrician, were completely and adamantly pro-vaccinations.

But what I was surprised about was their dedication for what they've taken on as "their cause."

It's clearly more than a business to them.

There have been many people, including myself at one time or another, who imagined these drug companies pumping kids with chemicals without thinking too much about the consequences just to make a buck.

But putting a face to this business, many of them female faces, most of them parents with children, was eye-opening.

Understanding the power that vaccines have had in our society, and knowing that when we choose to vaccinate our children, we're not just protecting them, but we're most likely protecting their friends and their friends (and on and on) is something that I don't think many people consider.

This doesn't mean that I'm going to run out and get the H1N1 vaccine, or even the seasonal flu vaccine. After much heartache over it last year, I ended up getting the older two the vaccine and a few days later they (including my husband) all had the worst stomach virus ever.

I'm still researching and trying to formulate my own educated decision about them.

But I will say that since visiting the facility and speaking with the professionals, I've seen a different side of vaccines. And believe me, it wasn't the blinged out cars and fancy handbags of high level executives.

It was the real, humble, and passionate faces of men and women who truly believe strongly in the power of what they do.

Regardless of how I feel about vaccines, I can't help but appreciate their passion. Only next time, I'd really appreciate if they'd have Ryan Reynolds there to give some shots. I'd happily volunteer myself as a veritable pin cushion.

---

A few interesting tidbits:

- Vaccines are tested within the typical newborn schedule. So when they test a new DTaP or whatever, they don't just test it alone. They test it with the other vaccines that are supposed to be taken at that time.

- You should report any and all reactions, no matter how big or small they are, to your doctor. My son had a week long low grade fever after his 3rd Hib and Prevnar series and my pediatrician decided not to give the 4th dose. It's important to report anything so that they can track it.

- When you're taking your kids to get vaccinations, topical anesthetic does work, but you need to plan ahead. Just make sure you tell the nurse where you put it (you might want to mark it on your kid's body with a marker or bandaid). You can also try Buzzy, a pretty cool product that can make shots less painful for your kids.

You can check out the posts from the other bloggers that attended as well (Lindsay didn't attend, but she's got a great post up about the H1N1 vaccine), as well as GlaxoSmithKline's corporate blog:

UpperCase Woman, CreatureBug, Sarah & the Good Squad, and The Feminist Breeder