dingdangblog

This WordPress.com site is the cat’s pajamas

Just say, NO. June 6, 2014

Filed under: aging,funny,Parenting — ddl6 @ 9:31 am
Tags: , , ,

The older I get, the less I feel the need to explain myself.  I just don’t have time for that anymore.  Take it or leave it, that’s the truth.  That’s why, over the last year or so, I have taken to responding to things that confuse, anger or upset me with one simple phrase: “No.”  Yep, no.  It explains so much on its own, don’t you agree?  I do.  That’s why, for my first blog post in nine ding, dang months, I will list the things that I feel……no………just,no, about.  No explanations, just, no.  Here we go, in no particular order.

  1. Geese. No.
  2. Duck Dynasty. No
  3. The band, Florida/Georgia Line. No.
  4. Decaf coffee. No.
  5. Talking, non-stop, about how busy you are. No.
  6. Disney. No.
  7. Anne Hathaway. No.
  8. Coughs.  No.
  9. High rise shorts. No.
  10. Goat cheese.  No.
  11. Shopping with my highly opinionated daughter.  No.
  12. Not returning my texts.  No.
  13. Having to check my voicemail.  No.
  14. Snakes.  No.
  15. Peas.  No.
  16. When people say, “Where’s that at?”.  No.
  17. Using the wrong form of “your” .  No.
  18. Hair in the drain.  No.
  19. BJ’s (the store, people). No.
  20. Wal-Mart.  No.                                                  

I believe that covers it.  Take my word for it, it’s liberating to not have to explain yourself.  Just say, no. 

 

Advertisements
 

Calgone, take me away…… February 26, 2013

I never get “free” time. Seriously, even when I get me time it usually involves doing something for my kids or they are all up in my ding dang business. I’m not complaining, it is what it is. I know when they are teenagers I’ll probably miss them pushing notes under the bathroom door while I’m trying to go. Maybe?

What I don’t understand is why they NEVER bother their father when he’s showering, pooping or on the phone. When I’ve asked them about this they have actually had the nerve to tell me that, ” Dad doesn’t want us to bother him.” What. The. Hell? What about my yelling, ” LEAVE ME ALONE FOR 5 FLIPPING MINUTES” has led you to believe that I want y’all to bother ME????

My husband says, rather smugly, that it’s because I have “allowed” this behavior to happen and now they don’t see boundaries. Please spare me. I am pretty sure I have set boundaries and they just don’t give a crap.

Last night I wanted to take a hot bath. When I tell my kids where I’m going they always act like I’m going on two- week trip to Siberia and they ask all kinds of questions that I’m positive that they come up with when I tell them I’m taking a bath: Did you sign my homework sheet? Can you look over my paragraph? Where’s Red Hulk? Can you make me chocolate milk? Can you play a game with me? These requests always come after they have otherwise been ignoring me for the last three hours.

Last night, my three sons were at a friend’s house, so it was just my daughter asking questions. Then she had the nerve to whine, ” But I wanted to take a bath! You’ll use all the hot water!” You’re damn right I’ll use all the hot water. Now, leave me alone. I got my beer and book and headed for 20 minutes of relative “peace.”

I had about 5 minutes of solitude when I heard my bedroom door slam open and see the bathroom doorknob twist back and forth (of course I locked the door). Then the rapid knocking started.
Me: ” WHAT? Who is it?”

Blake: ” Uh…..Blake Blake Kew-eee (Kelly). Is that you, mommy?” Who the hell does the kid think it is??? Bob, from down the street?

Me: ” Yes, it’s mommy and I’m taking a bath. I’ll be out in a little while. Why don’t you go play with your playdoh while daddy is making dinner?”

Blake: ” No, I don’t want to. Open this door, mom. I’m home from E’s house. Did you know I’m home?”

Me: “Yes, I can hear that you are home. Did you have a good time? I want to hear all about it when I’m out of the bath.I will come find you and you can tell me AFTER my bath.”

Blake: ” Well, we wrestled and played fuperheros (superheros). We watched TV and Fofie is fo funny(Sofie, the dog, is so funny). We were running”……..balh, blah, blah.

Me: ” Blake?” He was still rambling on and on. ” Blake?” Still going. ” BLAKE!!!!!”

Blake: Finally stopped, ” What, mommy?”

Me: ” Go downstairs with daddy, okay? I will talk to you in a bit. Go on, mommy wants privacy.”

Blake, quiet for a few seconds, then:” Um…….where was I? Oh yeah, then we played in E’s room and…..”

Me: ” Blake stop it! Leave the room now! I mean it!”

Blake: ” Mommy, get out of that bath, I hungey.”

Me: ” Dad is in the kitchen! Go ask him for some cheese or crackers. GO ON!”

Blake: ” What we having for dinner?”

Me, freaking out and yelling at this point: ” BLAKE, GO OUT OF HERE NOW!!!! DAD IS MAKING DINNER! ASK HIM!!! NOOOOOWWWW!”

Blake: ” Ooookaaay……….Mommy?……..Mommy?”

Me, growling: ” What?”

Blake” ” Can I have some almond milk?”

You get the picture? I spent 15 of my 25 minute bath trying to get him to leave me the flip alone. When I came downstairs my husband asked, ” How was your bath?” Blake smiled and said, ” It was great! Right, mommy?” Ding. Dang.

 

Tantrum on Aisle Three December 4, 2012

Last week my three-year old, Blake and I were at Wal-Mart ( I know, I know, but I really needed taco shells). I was using the self check out and Blake was looking at all the useless crap they put by the registers.  He brought over a lollipop/airplane thing and asked me if he could get it.  Now, I have never once let my children get any of these items, yet they ask each time they are with me at the store. I said no, and turned back around to check out my groceries.  I felt something hit my leg and I turned around to see my usually sweet and funny three-year old with his little hands on his little hips and his face all scrunched up. He started jumping up and down like he was Rumpelstiltskin and yelling ” YES!  MY WANT THAT–NOW!!!!!!” I was in shock because although he is mischievous and crazy, he is not bratty and is not one to throw fits when told “No.” He was yelling ” YESYESYESYES!” over and over again.  I finished paying for my items and grabbed his little hand and forcefully “escorted” him to the car.  I gave him a good talking to and got into the car to go home.  He was asleep not 5 minutes later. I looked at his sweet little sleeping face and was reminded of all the fits that my other children have thrown over the years.  Coincidentally, most of them have been at Wal-Mart or Target.  Go figure.

My children in general, are not big public temper tantrum throwers.  Well, except for my 5 year-old, Brady. His tantrums were epic.  The kind that left me shaking and sweating and wondering if I should find a local priest to stop by our house for a little exorcism. Thankfully, he grew out of those tantrums and my other kids only threw a couple that were monumental.

When my oldest son, Cooper was about 20 months old, I took him to Wal-Mart with me to go Christmas shopping while my daughter was in preschool.  Now, I know you’re thinking that was a bad idea, but let me explain.  When his sister was little, I did all my Christmas shopping for her while she was right there in the cart.  I just gave her a book to look at and a snack and she was good to go.  She never fussed and was always very easy.  Well, Cooper was NOTHING like his sister.

We turned onto the toy aisle and things got real bad, real quick.  He was strapped into the cart and he was looking from right to left very quickly.  He started to pull at the buckle and yell ” Out! I want to get out!” He was pointing at any and every toy saying ” I want! I want!”  The tears came next, followed by pulling his own hair and  screaming.  I had never seen anything like it.  ” I want it mama! I want it mama!”  He wasn’t even pointing at anything in particular.  He started bucking up and down.  If he had been an adult, a 5150 hold would have been placed on him immediately.  It was ridiculous.  I got out of there as fast as I could, leaving a store full of staring people.  Needless to say, I did the rest of my Christmas shopping while he was at home with my husband.

About a year or so later, my sister was visiting us and she wanted to go to Target one afternoon.  I was pregnant with my third child and my daughter was 4 and son was 2.  We rolled into Target and decided to get the kids an Icee, with the hope that would keep them busy so my sister and I could shop. I now think that those things actually make my children monsters, due to all the dye and sugar in them, but I digress.  So we were walking along and browsing, the kids followed behind us drinking their Icees.  We walked past a toy display and my daughter asked if they could get whatever it was and I said no.  Well, that was the beginning of epic fit number two.  She started whining and asking why she couldn’t get the toy.  Then my son joined in, just for the hell of it.  My sister and I were doing our best to ignore them.  Somewhere along the way, my son started running with the Icee in his hand.  I turned and told him to slow down because he could fall.  Two minutes later, I heard a crash and a cry.  Sure enough, he had fallen down and his Icee was spilled everywhere.  Before I could stop her, my daughter tripped over her brother.  Her Icee flew out of her hands and landed with a splat right next to her brother’s.  Well, they started to have total and complete meltdowns.  The screaming began, ” MY ICEE!  I DROPPED MY ICEE!  I WANT MY ICEE!” The scene was awful: red Icee all over the floor and two kids lying down next to it, kicking and screaming.  I looked at my sister who was laughing so hard, tears were rolling down her cheeks.  I wasn’t mad because we both suffer from “nervous laughter.”  The more inappropriate it is to laugh, the harder we laugh.  So of course, I start laughing.  I’m sure it was quite a sight to behold.

I was trying to get the two of them to stand up and I slipped in the damn red liquid and fell down next to them.  That started them crying harder.  My sister was hysterically laughing at this point.  Then, the security guard came over and asked if we needed help.  I thanked him, but said that we were fine.  In retrospect, I should have accepted his offer .

Somehow, we managed to make it out of the store.  I was dragging both of them out of their by their hands.  They kept doing the ” dead weight drop” move.  The one where they let their bodies go limp and drop to the ground.  My sister (still laughing) picked up one and I picked up the other and we started to the car.  There was a cart in my way and I pushed it too hard.  I watched as it rolled right out into the parking lot, almost hitting a car that was driving towards us.  I couldn’t do anything about it though because I was carrying my flailing son.

We finally made it to the car and somehow, put them in their car seats.  My sister and I both sat down in the front seat, looked at each other………..and started to laugh.

The next temper tantrum also took place at Target.  This time, I had all four kids with me.  I try to avoid Target with kids, especially on a Saturday afternoon, by myself, but I needed to get a gift for a party that my oldest son was attending that day.  My husband was out-of-town, so I had to suck it up and go with the kids.  Before we went in, I had a talk with Brady,who was three at this point.  He had a problem with Target and toys and he knew it.  I kneeled down next to him, looked in his eyes and said ” Okay buddy, no asking for toys.  We are here to get something for one of Coop’s friends, not you.  Do you understand?”  He nodded his head, closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths, ” Yes, mama.  I can do it.”  I felt confident that things would be alright so I buckled my 8 month old into the stroller and we were off.

We were browsing the toy aisles and I could see that Brady was barely holding it together.  He kept looking away from the super hero toys, saying ” I won’t ask for anything.”  Over and over.  Coop picked out a gift in a relatively short time and we headed to the check out.  I thought that all was well until we passed the dollar section and Brady spied his downfall……..rubber ducks.  Tons of them.  Great, I knew we were screwed.  He turned to me and pleaded with his big blue eyes, ” Mama, can I please get just one duck? Please, please, please? Just one?  It’s in the dollar section. Just one?” I sighed and said “Brady, come on.  Do you remember what we talked about?  We are not buying anything else today.”  His eyes started to well up with tears and he hugged the duck close to him.  ” Yes, I love him . I want it. YES!”  My other kids knew that things were going to get ugly, so my daughter took the stroller to the register and Coop followed.

“Come on Brady, let’s go.” He started full on crying and hyperventilating. ” No! I want a duck! Yes! Please mommy, please.”  So I pulled him over to the register where he sat down and began screaming ” I. WANT.  THE.  DUCK!!!” He had the duck in a death grip in his hands.  I tried to pull it away but I had no luck….with the duck .

At this point the other kids were so embarrassed that they moved away like they didn’t know us.  Brady was laying in the check-out line, screaming, crying and writhing around.  I decided to focus on paying for the toy I had. After the toy was paid for, I bent down and picked up my spazz of a child, which was not easy-that kid is built like a line-backer.  The poor cashier looked very scared at this display.  She looked at me and asked me if I needed a gift receipt. ” Uh, I think we’ll take our chances, but thanks.”  I yanked my bag away from her with one hand while trying to hold Brady with the other.  As we were rushing out of there, my daughter said ” Mom! He’s still holding the duck.” Sure enough, he still had the ding dang duck in his little hands.  I put him down and tried to pull the duck away .  He kept screeching ” NO NO NO!  I LOOOOOVVVVEEEE THE DUCK!!!!!!” I finally got it away from him and he started jumping up trying to grab it out of my hands.  I looked at him and at the duck and knew we had to get out of there FAST, so I made a swift decision………I threw the duck over towards the dollar section where it came from.  I picked Brady up and turned around to my stunned older kids and said “GO!” We hot footed it out of there in record time.

I’m happy to report that after the “duck  incident”, Brady never had another meltdown in a store.  Well, maybe a couple, but never one that epic.  The kids still reminisce about the time “Mom chucked the duck”  at Target.  It took me a couple of days to recover from that one and I still wonder if I hit some unsuspecting Target customer with a flying duck.

In short, temper tantrums are a part of childhood.  I feel lucky that my children have never made them a habit and I feel like I have earned another “badge of parenthood” for surviving the ones that they have had.  I still feel bad about the duck though……..

 

How I met P-Daddy September 23, 2012

I met my husband when we were 14 years old…….a long time ago.  We met in Mrs. B. Williams 9th grade English class.   He sat in the back and I sat in the front.  I was new to the  school, having moved to Florida two weeks before school started.  I was very shy and very angry that my parents had moved me away from New Mexico, the only home I had known.

I noticed him at the beginning of the school year but I was too busy”pining” away for my life in NM to really pay close attention.  Then, one spring day, he was standing at the teacher’s desk asking a question and I looked up at him.  Now, I am not an overly romantic or mushy type person (ask my husband) but I swear to you, it was like some kind of light was shining on that boy.  I saw a future with him.  I saw him talking to our children.  I always have a hard time explaining what I felt in that instant,  but I guess you could say, it was sort of love at first sight.  I was freaked out by it to tell the truth.  I mean, I thought he was cute and nice and funny but in that moment, it was as if I was being “told” that he was the one.  I know, it sounds corny, but it’s the truth.  I decided then and there that I had to know him.  So, here is the story of our beginning and how “we” almost didn’t happen because of a serious fashion “don’t” committed by him.

I started, like any 14-year-old girl does, by asking all my friends and his friends about him.  I asked where he lived, what sport he played, where he was from and most importantly, who he liked.  One of our mutual friends assured me he would talk to him and find out if he had noticed me as well.  A series of notes were sent back and forth between myself and my friend.  The gist of the notes was, yes, he knew who I was and he thought I was “cute”.  He kind of “liked” me and two other girls.  Well, that annoyed me and I told my friend to tell him that I liked a couple other boys too.  This went on for a couple of weeks and then, one afternoon our mutual friend handed me a note from “him”.  I still have it to this day. He wrote that he really wanted to get to know me, but he had to go out-of-town to his brother’s graduation from college.  He hoped that I would still like him when he got back……in like 5 days.  A little dramatic, but come on, we were 14.

On the day that he was coming back, I took extra care getting ready for school.  We all waited in the cafeteria for the first bell to ring and every time the door opened my eyes flew up to see if it was him.  Finally, he walked in and he looked around and met my eyes and smiled.  For the next couple of weeks that was pretty much all that was exchanged between us, smiles and the occasional “Hey.”  He was and still is, a man of few words.

One Friday, a friend of mine invited me to go with her church youth group to play broom ball.  Broom ball is like ice hockey but with a broom and ball.  It didn’t sound like something I would be interested in until she mentioned that HE would be there.  I accepted the invitation quickly.

I took my time getting ready that night.  I painstakingly picked out my outfit.  Took an hour to blow dry my hair and so on.  Finally, I was on my way to the church to meet my friend and see my “future husband”. My mom dropped me off and I made my way across the sea of kids.

I found my friends and kept looking around for him.  More and more kids showed up and time was passing but no sign of Mr. Right.  I was beginning to regret my decision to play flipping broom ball, then, I spotted him across the room.  It was like the skies parted and a beam of light shone on my curly-haired prince.  I heard violins and trumpets.  We made our way across the room to each other and as we got closer, people moved out-of-the-way.  We locked eyes and smiles.  It was very teen movie-like.Then…….. I saw what he was wearing.  The heavenly music scratched to a stop and the beam of light on him was covered by dark storm clouds.  Oh.  My. Word.

This boy, who I had already decided was going to be the father of my children, was wearing navy blue sweatpants (the old school kind with elastic at the bottom) and, God Bless him, brown LOAFERS.  What in the world? There he was, standing in front of me, actually saying more than “Hey.” and all I could do was look at his outfit.  I started questioning everything.  Maybe he wasn’t the guy for me after all?  I’d find another soul mate, right?  It was……tragic.

I took a deep breath, searched my soul and decided then and there that I would be a “good person” and give this poor boy a chance to redeem himself.  We have all made bad fashion choices right?  I chose to overlook this little incident in order to see if we had a future together.  Maybe I could be the one to “help” him be a fashion “do” in the future?  I was willing to give it a shot…….that’s the kind of girl I am.

To this day, he is touchy about the whole “sweatpants with loafers” incident.  He says ” They weren’t loafers.  They were topsiders.”  Does it really matter, folks? As if that would make it better?  He says, IF he did wear sweatpants and loafers, it was because he was playing broom ball and he could” slide faster” on the ice and the atrocious sweatpants were for “padding” on the ice……..riiiiiiiiight.  He can explain it away all he wants, but I know the truth.  You know what?  I love him anyway.

 

The Honey DON’T list September 2, 2012

I love my husband.  He is my best friend and the first person I want to talk to in the morning and the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night.  He is a wonderful husband and a fantastic father.   He was made for me.  All that being said, we have known each other since we were 14 years old and we have been married for 12 years, and sometimes, the man can irritate the hell out of me.  He does things that make me want to pull my hair out.  I know for a fact that I annoy the ding dang out of him, but he doesn’t have a blog to write all those annoying habits down.  I do……..so there.

When we were young, we would have these huge, dramatic fights about dumb things.  We would break up and get back together 3 times a week.  It was ridiculous.  Now, we rarely fight.  We just bitch at each other sometimes.  I can’t speak to what I do that irritates him, but I can sure speak to what he does that irritates the flip out of me.  Here we go….

He is a freak about doors being shut.  I swear, he will start yelling ” Shut the door!” before someone is even through the damn thing.  “You’re letting all the AC out” or “you’re letting all the heat out!”  Drives me and the kids batty!

He can’t stand to let me drive anywhere while he’s in the car.  He makes a comment about everything I do when I am driving.  “You know, you can pass this guy? Why are you staying in this lane?  Do you always go this slow? Why do you go this way?” Seriously???????

He can’t just eat a bowl of ice cream.  He has to scrape the bowl and get  EVERY. LAST. BIT of ice cream out.  That man leaves nothing behind in the bowl.  Zero.  Zilch.  Nada.

When I can’t think of something to make for dinner and I ask him for an idea he says, “How about spaghetti?” Every time. Every single time…….I hate spaghetti.

Before he gets into bed at night, he takes off his clothes and leaves them on the floor by his side of the bed.  I wouldn’t care if he put them in the hamper in the morning,  but does he?  Nope.  Never.

Once, when our second child was about a month old and we were tired, cranky and overwhelmed, we got into an argument about sharing responsibilities and he said ” Well, you get to relax and clean the kitchen every night.” Ummm, what?  I still get annoyed about that little comment.

He knows that I have to make all the beds and have the kitchen clean before I can leave the house,  but he is ticked at me every Sunday before church when I do these things.  It’s been 12 years, buddy.  It ain’t gonna change.

He wants me to go to bed at the same time as him every night.  He won’t say that though. He will ask ” So are you going to watch this whole thing?  What time are you planning on going to bed?  You know we have to get up early?”  Then he will pout.  Drives me insane.

He is a very helpful father.  He is not one of those dads who doesn’t get up with the kids, make dinner, etc. BUT he pisses me off about the  wash.  He will casually ask ” Do I have any clean underwear? Shorts? ” I get bitchy every time he asks this, yet he still does.

Ironing.  When asks me if I have ironed for him it creates a white-hot rage within me.  I will go to extreme lengths not to iron my own clothes but he wants me to iron his??????  When he comes home and I have had a bad day and I’m talking to him about it, I am still surprised that he has the cojones to ask ” Did you get a chance to iron?”  Oh, no he didn’t?!?!? Yep, he did.

My husband is very handy.  Really, he can fix anything or build anything.  That is great most of the time, but it’s so annoying when I show him something that I want to do around the house and he says ” Oh, I can do that.”  I know he CAN but it takes him MONTHS to get around to doing it.  Sometimes, I would just rather pay someone.

He is the king of deals.  Really, he always finds a way to save money or get a deal on something.  That is great, but he always expects me to bargain like he does.  I don’t have that kind of personality.  He doesn’t give a flip about offending anyone with a lowball offer….doesn’t bother him one ding dang bit.  It bothers me and he just doesn’t understand why.

He doesn’t understand the need to buy clothes and shoes.  When I buy things he will say ” Don’t you already have a blue shirt?” As if I should only have ONE blue shirt. ” Don’t you have a pair of jeans? Do you really need more?” ….sigh.

He rarely gets mad or offended.  Now, this is a good and bad thing.  Sometimes when somebody has pissed me off and I tell him about it, I want him to be pissed too. No, he’s always so damn rational.  He always sees both sides.  How annoying.  I call my sister about things that really piss me off…….she’ll bitch with me.

He constantly moves his big toes.  Honestly, he is ALWAYS moving them.  Why?  That’s just weird.

Finally, the most annoying thing about my husband is that I can never stay mad or annoyed with him.  He always makes me laugh or smile when I don’t want to.  He brings out the best in me and always shows me the positive side of things.  Sometimes, I just want to be a miserable bitch.  Is that too much to ask?

 

The TALK August 5, 2012

Well, it happened. The day I had been dreading for 10 years arrived and there was nothing for me to do but face it straight on. We had the “TALK” with our daughter. I am proud to say, we made it through and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. It did break my heart just a bit because I just kept picturing my sweet girl as baby, playing with her toys. I swallowed my fear and tears and told her the truth. My daughter handled it, like she does with most everything, with grace and humor, and a little bit of disgust.

It was about 9 pm on the night before we were driving 10 hours to the beach for a vacation. The boys were asleep and I was going around trying to get everything organized and ready to leave. My daughter was curled up reading (as usual) in her bed. I went in to give her a kiss and tell her to turn off her light. I hugged her and said goodnight and as I was walking out of her room she said, ” Mom, at Jenny’s house the other day, there was a book about babies and where they come from. There was a picture of a naked man and a naked woman. What is THAT about? I don’t get it.” I’m sure all the color drained from my face and I started to go into panic mode. What the hell was I going to say? She caught me completely off guard. I had no idea where to start. I am a person who likes to be in control and prepared and I was neither. But she had initiated the conversation. I couldn’t just brush it under the rug. I had to mom up and do this. I took a deep breath and said, ” Honey, get comfortable. We need to have a little talk.”

She looked at me suspiciously and asked, ” What kind of talk? You mean “THE TALK”?” How did she know about the talk? ” You know where I’m going with this?” I asked. She thought a minute and then answered, ” Well, not really, but I know some of my friends have had “the talk”, but they aren’t allowed to talk about it.” Ding dang it! Exactly what I was afraid of, that she heard it from someone else! I asked her exactly what she had heard and it was nothing too significant.  It was weird and inaccurate, but not significant. Whew, lucky break.

I started off our little conversation telling her about the changes girls go through when they reach puberty. She looked a little shocked about some of the bombs I dropped, but was interested and asked many questions. I ended that part of the talk with the fact that a couple of the things we talked about , would happen every month. She looked horrified and asked, ” Wait. What? Are you kidding? Every single month? That stinks!”  You’re telling me, sister.

After we finished the “what’s happening to my body” part of the talk, I told her I needed to bring her dad in for the next part. “You need to bring DAD in? Why?” I explained that her dad and I wanted her to be able to talk to both of us about anything at all.She looked skeptical, but accepted it.

I went to look for my husband and found him watching “Wipeout” all alone, laughing uproariously and completely unaware of the direction his night was about to go in. He saw me and started to rewind the show. ” You have to see this! It’s hilarious!”  Good Lord, the man loves Wipeout. I whispered, ” No. Come on. Sissy asked about how babies are made. Let’s do this.” He sighed, ” Really? We have to do this now, at 9:30pm? I’m watching Wipeout.” I love the man, but sometimes he just doesn’t see the urgency in certain situations. ” Yes, we have to do it now. She’s waiting.” He got off the couch, but not before making sure ding dang Wipeout was paused.

When we both walked in her room, she started laughing nervously, ” I don’t know if I like this.” I started laughing, because that’s what I do when I’m nervous. My husband shot me a “be serious look”. Oh please, now he’s the expert. Typical. I shot him my ” don’t you dare tell me how it is” look. My daughter thought the whole thing was amusing. Well, that amusement was about to end.

We started out talking at great lengths about marriage and commitment. We explained how making a baby should be something that two people who are committed to one another should do. Then we moved onto the sperm finds the egg part and how it’s fertilized and yadda, yadda, yadda. If you are looking for hard-core info here, you better find another blog. I’m not getting into it again until I have to and I have to do this three more times. Anyway, so I thought that we had covered all the basics without getting too….graphic. I did most of the talking and I was proud of myself. She listened and nodded and accepted all that we said. I  wrapped it up and thought she didn’t seem too grossed out or upset. She was still smiling and making eye contact. A great sense of relief washed over me and then she asked, ” So, I understand how a baby is made and grows now, but how does the sperm actually get into the woman?” DAMN IT!!!! We were so close. So very close.

I took a deep breath and looked at my husband. He gave me a “go on” motion. My daughter was looking at me with her gigantic, innocent, hazel eyes. “Well, the man puts his…… penis in the woman’s….. vagina.”Oh God, I said it! I said penis and vagina! I prefer dinky and Gigi, but this was serious.   Her eyes got even bigger and her mouth dropped open. “What?” She squeaked. “You guys did THAT four times without telling me?” She started to tear up a bit and said, “Okay, I am weirded out by this whole thing now.” I kept telling her about what a miracle the whole thing is. She kept saying ” I’m never doing that……ever.” I told her that is how everybody came to be. Me, her dad and brothers. She responded, ” Mom-mom and Pop-pop? Oh, no! I don’t want to hear anymore.” Yeah,I think that was enough trauma for one night, no need to bring grandparents into it.

For the next week or so, she would come up to me at random times and say, ” I’m still freaked out by “the talk” you know?”But she came to me and my husband on separate occasions and asked us thoughtful questions.She asked us to get her a book about it. She is the type of child that wants cold hard facts so she can be informed. With each question, it gets a little easier and less embarrassing to talk about. By the time I explain it to my youngest, I’ll be ding dang Dr. Ruth. Does that age me? Is Dr.Ruth still alive? What I mean is, I’ll be a sex expert.

For the last year or so, she has been after me and my husband to have another baby. After” the talk” she told us she wasn’t so sure she wanted another sibling. A couple of nights ago, as she was helping clean up the kitchen, she said, ” I do think you and dad should make one more…….. BUT, that’s one party I DO NOT want an invitation to.” I just love that girl.

 

Save the drama for another mama…….. July 28, 2012

Filed under: children,mom friendships,motherhood,Parenting — ddl6 @ 1:58 pm
Tags: , , ,

I have been a mom for almost 11 years now and I think I am finally getting the hang of making good “mom friends.” The women that I consider to be my close friends are all amazing ladies who I admire and respect. They don’t take themselves too seriously and they make me laugh and aren’t offended by sarcastic nature and foul mouth.

It has been through trial and error that I have come up with a list of the types of moms that I try to steer clear of. I’m open to giving anyone a chance but there are types of moms that I just know I will never click with:

  1. The “my life is so much more difficult than yours” mom. Being a parent is mother flipping hard….for everyone. We all have a million and one things to do on a daily basis. Get over it. Have a glass of wine and just deal.
  2. The “all negative,all the time mom”. Oh Lord, this mom is very difficult to be around. Nothing positive comes out of her mouth. She can see a rainbow and her reaction is ” Yeah, but it just rained for 2 hours.” I feel like I am a pretty positive person and I like to surround myself with positive people. I can’t listen to how bad things are. I have to see a light at the end of the tunnel. I have to laugh about things.
  3. The “I know best about EVERYTHING” mom. She knows how much sleep your child should get. What your child should be eating. What your child should be watching or not watching. She has no problem sharing her know it all-ness with anyone who will listen. Thanks but no thanks. I don’t presume to know what’s best for every child or every parent. I don’t care to hear anyone else’s opinion, unless I ask.
  4. The “insincere sweet” mom. You know the type: So damn happy all the time, always kissing arse, just phony. I am not fooled at all by this mama. Let me tell you what I’ve learned about her, folks: she is usually a big old bitch. She is judgmental,insulting, and is the first to bad mouth someone…….with a big old smile.
  5. The “disciplinarian” mom. I don’t like to discipline other people’s kids and I sure as hell don’t like another parent to discipline mine. I will step in if somebody is getting hurt but other than that, I stay out of it. It’s not my job to scold other kids. I have four of my own to deal with. There was a mom who had a baby 2 months younger than one of my sons. My son was 6 months at the time and her kid was 4 months. My son was grabbing her son’s foot and she stopped, pulled my son’s hand away and said ” No, no! You need to be gentle! Be nice!” My 6 MONTH OLD, just looked at her and drooled. He should have bit her.
  6. The “hater” mom. Jealousy is a bad thing. I recently saw a quote by Theodore Roosevelt, “Comparison is the thief of joy”. I absolutely agree. I believe you have to be happy for other people’s accomplishments and good fortune. Unfortunately, there is a good deal of competition with everything nowadays and there are some parents who become competitive about parenting. Some moms want to be “the best” at everything and seeing someone else’s success threatens them. Scary.
  7. The final mom I try to avoid is one I’ve talked about before. The “my kid would never” mom. This mom thinks her kid is a ding dang angel. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids and think they are great. I also know that kids will be kids and they are in no way perfect. When a mom automatically says ” My kid would never do that.” I laugh. Um, okaaaay. It has been my experience that the child of the “my kid would never” mom usually HAS done it and is probably the ring leader. Just sayin’.

Don’t get me wrong, I have made some great mom friends over the years. They are all supportive,smart and kind. My favorite quote of all time is by Maya Angelou, ” When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.” That sums it all up. People are who they are and either you click or you don’t. Save the drama.