Motherhood Uncensored

Sweating the small stuff

I was super tired last night but instead of doing the safe, smart thing and go straight to bed, I decided to call my husband.

And no surprise, I brought up an upcoming work trip (that we had already discussed) and he gave me his typical "I'm not sure how that's going to work, but I guess we'll make it work" spiel-und-sigh which in most cases I just ignore but then he asked me who was going to watch the kids and I freaked out in my "do you ever have to set up anything or do anything for my work trips other than be home when I ask you?" sort of way.

Granted, most of what followed was just the frustrated ramblings of a tired, pregnant woman who's still trying to workout daily and lug the 3 kids to the pool talking. 

Bad combo for under eye bags.

In my head I get that I chose to marry a military pilot turned commercial pilot. And that I decided to start a couple of blogs turned successful sites so that I could work from home and be flexible.

And on most days, I'm extremely thankful, sporting a peachy glow of gratefulness.

But there are moments, like last night, when I get pretty damn tired of having to adjust my entire life to his complicated work schedule.

But most of all, I get sick of being the one who sweats the small stuff, particularly when the other person, who doesn't do most of the sweating, reminds me of all those things that I need to do, but already do all the freaking time.

Take the 20 minutes before we leave the house to go out as a family. Usually he's in the shower or in the bathroom, or performing some sort of "cleansing" ritual like vacuuming up his hair that he just cut a mere 15 minutes before we have to leave the house while I'm throwing clothes on my own body and all the kids, packing up my bag with diapers and games, and getting their shoes on.

Forget how annoying the timing of the shower or bathroom break is. And that my most likely unshowered self just got every single thing ready for us so that we could just walk out the door.

But does he really have to ask me, as we're walking out the door, whether I packed sippy cups, extra diapers, and activities?

"Oh thanks for remembering to remind me of EVERYTHING THAT I ALWAYS DO EVERY DAY!"

How about forgoing the shower and packing the bag for once?

It's never an issue when he's alone with the kids. He runs a fairly tight ship, and I come home to happy, well-fed children, and extremely clean floors and an organized tea cupboard.

Don't ask.

But if we're both home, I still bear the brunt of the very detail-oriented parts of the parenting and household duties.

And quite frankly, I'm not sure why.

Is it a man vs woman thing? A SAHM-WAHM-SAHD-WAHD vs WOHM/WOHD thing? What?

FAQ about Baby Four

Q: So when are you due?

A: 10.10.10 (pretty cool, right?), but since I'm pretty consistently three days overdue, at least with my last two anyway, I'm guessing sometime in October. Margot was born 10.09.08, so I'm guessing she'll be hating me and her little sister for making her share yet another thing. Poor kid.

Q: So were you trying?

A: Yes. And no. And maybe.

Q: Oh, so that's why you stopped drinking, right?

A: Nope. I actually decided to lose the booze right after the holidays and it had nothing to do with me getting knocked up. Of course, I was perfectly fine without a drink but now I'm dying for a gigantic ice cold beer. Or 12. 

And I may or may not have indulged in a glass of wine on my birthday, which I will use as an excuse if an underground birthday karaoke video ever gets out.

Ahem.

Q: Okay wait. But I thought you hated your husband. And motherhood. Isn't that what this blog is about? I feel gipped!

A: Actually no. There are definitely many things I hate, like spanking (of children, anyway), Crocs, and kid leashes (or harnesses, as they're now being called), but I do not hate my husband or motherhood. Sure, I've gone through difficult times with both, but just because I write a post or 12 about how marriage is tough or how my husband can be a weird, cleaning freak, or being a mom is challenging and life-sucking doesn't mean I'm giving either up. It just means that sometimes I have really bad days, and I tend to write about those because they're way more entertaining.

Plus, he has a big penis and it's hard to hate someone with a gigantic dong.

[He made me write that].

[Okay, so he didn't make me write that but the ongoing joke between us is that he asks "Did you say I have a big penis?" whenever I say I wrote something about him].

[Now you're going to think that he doesn't have a big penis because he wants to say he has a big penis so I think I'll just stop writing about his penis now].

But really, I'm sorry you feel gipped. If you'd like a refund for your time, feel free to drop me an email and I'll see what I can do about that, right after I invent the self-changing diaper.

Q: Speaking of your husband, isn't he away a lot? How are you going to handle 4 kids?

A: Yeah, he certainly does travel a lot, and I'm often by myself (as you may have read and/or do read at my new Sometimes Single Mom column and on this blog almost every other post) so we're thinking of moving my in-laws down here with us to help.

Ha. Just kidding.

Q: So why did you wait this long to say anything?

A: You know, after having two miscarriages in a row, I've just become super cautious about saying anything. And then with the Mominatrix book tour, I figured I'd just try to keep things under wraps for awhile.

And then "awhile" turned into "many weeks" and finally my husband asked if we were just going to come home one day with a baby and surprise everyone.

So, I figured it was time.

Plus, I was kind of tired of my mother-in-law asking me if I was still exercising and running every time she saw me. 

Q: So are you disappointed that you're not having a boy?

A: No, not at all, but my son was. And it's incredibly heart wrenching to watch your three-year-old hang his head and pout, angrily blurting out "Boy" anytime you talk about the new baby. But then he got a piece of bubble gum on our way out and he's been fine ever since. He did, however, ask me to order up some boys from the kid truck.

I have no idea where he got that from but I'm just going with it. And I'm also buying stock in bubble gum, a loving gift from his new little sister for her big brother.

Q: Four kids! Are you crazy?

A: Yes. Absolutely. But at least I'm consistent in my insanity. It makes things easier for everyone. And really, it makes this blog much more interesting. 

The Secret

 

Hey AAP - Leave my daughter's clitoris alone

My friend and fellow blogger sent me a link with that headline a couple of nights ago and I instantly felt sick to my stomach.

Just wait until you read the actual article.

In very short, the AAP is suggesting pediatricians in the United States be permitted to legally perform Level IV female genital mutilation (FGM) which is constituted by a clitoral "nick," a procedure that is not physically or psychologically harmful, in the name of cultural sensitivity. They are hoping that by legalizing this, it will prevent the performance of more serious and currently illegal levels of FGM.

Not surprisingly, they are using circumcision, which in this country is not a medically necessary procedure (though it has been found in some studies to decrease the chance of UTIs as well as the spread of AIDS in third world countries), as a way to further their argument.

And really, I can't fault them there. From my reading, the clitoral "nick" is less painful and less "disfiguring" than the current male circumcision practices in this country.

However, even though one could compare the Level IV clitoral "nick" with male circumcision, as my friend points out, FGM practices stem from a completely different source.

"Female genital mutilation not only results in physical and psychological trauma (including long-term health problems and possible death), it is rooted in gender politics. Female genital mutilation is done to control women at their very core. Not only does it subjugate them to men, but it is perpetuated by women as well."

And, aside from all that, I just don't think it's wise for the AAP to institute FGM as a means to make things "even-steven." They're basically saying "Well, we cut off a boy's foreskin, so we should be able to nick a girl's clitoris" (which by the way is illegal). 

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a fan of circumcision and my son is uncut.

But I'm still completely stunned by these suggested amendments, regardless of what is hoped they will prevent.

And I firmly believe that it is possible to take the words "cultural sensitivity" way too far.

What's next? Foot binding?

Please go read my above-mentioned friend's outstanding post highlighting the details of this suggested AAP amendment regarding Female Genital Mutilation. She's also included ways that you can loudly voice your disdain for these suggestions.

Just one thing

As my husband ushered me out the door this morning for my Birthday-slash-Mother's Day "Hey, I did actually get you a present" present, I asked him to please PLEASE marinate the chicken while I was gone.

Now I realize that being alone with 3 kids during the prime of their activity period is not an easy task, but he's a pilot. They do lots of things all at the same time, like fly around people and stuff, which might be considered as hard as or possibly even harder than wrangling 3 little kids AND marinating chicken (which, by the way, involves opening a spice packet, adding vinegar, oil, and water, and then plopping a bunch of chicken in a bowl). 

It didn't help that this might have been the worst spa experience I've ever had, which, as you could probably guess is pretty challenging because any time away from your kids for a little break should be a spa.

A Gyno visit on my own is actually relaxing.

But the weird full-body sugar scrub under a stained blanket followed by a shower in a really scary looking bathroom topped off by a manicure that my 6-year-old could have done did not make me a happy camper.

Seriously. The thought that perhaps this was the woman's first time painting nails actually ran through my mind at least twice during the almost 2-hour manicure.

And after just asking her to give up and take off the 4th coat of nail polish, my nails actually look worse than when I started.

Needless to say, I was trying to remind myself that it is the thought, or extreme afterthought that counts. And besides, I'd be coming home to a super clean house, my children happily snoozing, and a bowl of happily marinating chicken.

But alas - the family room was a wreck. The kids had just gone down for a nap about an hour past their nap time, and he had not marinated the chicken.

He did, however, have time to vacuum the family room floor somehow, which is awesome considering I just vacuumed it yesterday. 

Sound familiar?

But why? Why can't they ever just do that ONE little tiny thing we ask?