Directive Language

So before I even had kids, I read somewhere/heard something that rather than saying 'stop xyz," use directive language in place. The reasoning that was the kid will hear stop xyz, and possibly stop mid whatever, but then they have to figure out what to do next in a split second and that can be overwhelming and big scary things and then meltdown. Something to that effect. 

Anyway, I liked that and tried to start thinking that way so it would be second nature when I had children who would listen to my every word and comply almost *85% of the time. 

* I say 85% because my 30-year old childless self was realistic and knew no one, let alone a child, would comply 100% of the time. Because I know my future kids would never**

**my real children never all the time.    

Anyway. It was harder than I thought, but I can do that on occasion. Some examples:

• Stop running! -> Walk please!
• For the hundredth time stop touching your sister's whatever -> For the hundredth time lets keep our hands to ourselves.
• Oh god stop stripping we are in public -> Oh god keep your clothes on for this moment please lord.
• Don't feed the dog your oatmeal I know it's hilarious but it's making both of you sticky and gross-> Oatmeal goes in just your belly and it's so funny how you get sticky and gross.    

It doesn't have to be complicated either, 43 year old me tells my real kids "take a deep breath" all the damn time instead of "calm the fuck down child" like I want to all the time.  

But it could work in other circumstances too. Like telling people to be kind, instead of stop being an asshole! Or like, how we should tell all men to understand consent instead of the simplistic "don't get raped" trope we tell women.  

I’m not here to…

Discuss xyz. But what I'm really going to do is express my opinion on xyz, and don’t want to hear anyone else’s abc opinion/facts. 

But if you do agree with xyz, you can comment in support. That's another unspoken rule of that 'disclaimer.' Another unspoken part: I put the disclaimer up because xyz is along the lines of the quiet parts said aloud. 

Funny thing is, the quiet parts were quiet usually due to shame or unpopular beliefs. Like separate but not equal is acceptable. Vaccinations are not  ‘big pharma’ money makers. Civil rights are only for cis-male-white everyone. Society may have changed and you may want to hold on to those outdated beliefs, but you kept that shit to yourself.  

So the I'm not here to discuss xyz really just means I'm going to say what I say and don't want to hear anything different. And in a way I get it, I also do not want to waste my energy defending my woke* ideals to closeminded fools.

*Whatever Offends Klanspeople* Easiest

*People because I'm being inclusive.  

Group Costume

Since Girl 1 could partake in trick-or-treating (i.e. walk on her own because I am not carrying her throughout the neighborhood*) we have themed the Halloween costumes. So the kids don't know anything else and dr soc and I will never tell them otherwise. 

*I did not apply the same logic in 2018 and carried 3 month old Girl 2 like a fool but almost 3 year old Girl 1 still walked when we were My Little Pony

This year we were Mario World:

Rosalina, *Power-up, Peach and Luigi
*people asked if they could punch dr soc a lot and he said yes if he could punch them back

One of my favorite Halloween *group costume stories of all time is from my early 20's and I wasn't even a part of the costume.

*favorite group costume in my early 20's was the sins. Yours truly strutted around the party in lingerie* as lust and totally got the boy I wanted.

*once again: early 20's     

Anyway, favorite story: I was getting drinks with some friends who had gotten married in September (I had been a bridesmaid btw). 

Newlywed girl (dreamy sappy voice of smug newlywed): It's our first married Halloween! We have to do something together! 

Newlywed boy (enthusiastically): Let's go as a horse!

Me and everyone else: (laughs)

Newlywed girl: (purses lips, glares at all of us)

They aren't married to each other anymore 🤷

SURPRISE!

For my parents' 10 year anniversary, my dad gave my mom a pearl necklace and showed it to my sister and I beforehand and told us "don't tell mommy."

My sister just flat out snitched, "it's a necklace." 
But I did not tell. I just dropped very subtle hints. Like, "you're gonna like it!" "It's really pretty!" And the most cryptic clue of them all "you wear it here," and patted my collarbone. 

Somehow my mom figured something was up. *shrugs* 

In my defense, this was 1987 and I was five (a young one at that). And, my mom didn't know it was a pearl necklace, so she was still surprised. And then 25 years later she let me borrow that necklace for my wedding, so it all worked out.  

Now lets fast forward to 2022, and my 10 year anniversary with dr soc was coming up. As you can see from yesterday's post he got me some bling bling* and I loves it. Beforehand he enlisted girl 1's help and she took her duty incredibly serious and as enthusiastically as she could. Girl 1 is 6. 

*yes I know I'm dating myself with that vernacular term

And so, the 2022 scene played like this:   

dr soc: yeah, my (wedding) ring is a bit tight and I may get it resized, but I don't remember what size I am

6: mommy, I need a tracing of your hand. 

me: yeah I had to get remeasured when I got my (wedding) ring resized last year. 

dr soc: ah-

6: mommy, what I really need a tracing of the finger you wear your rings 

dr soc: -

me: oh okay after dinner-

6: no lets do it now, here let me get a piece of paper and a pen for you. 

--7 seconds later ---

6: here, put your hand here (points to the paper she had slapped in front of me), and trace like this (starts tracing my hand) no spread your fingers out .

dr soc: rubs the bridge of his nose

6: okay that looks good I'm just going to cut this out. 

me: that's great honey -

6: now I can always have a high five from you! 

dr soc: sigh

me: That makes perfect sense kiddo.

--- 3 minutes later ---

6: daddy! -whispers- I got it! (slips him the cutout of my hand in front of me and giggles hard core* proud of the mission accomplished)

*also dating myself with this term and I don't care  

Somehow I figured something was up. *shrugs* But hey, at least she didn't flat out snitch!   

 

 

Introducing...

Ryder!

His full name is Ryder, Sir Snuggles of Our Silly Named St, The House Sociology, First of his Name, Protector of Small Loud Humans, Sweeper of the Crumbs and All Around Good Boy.

 

Also known as our 11 month Boston Terrier/lab mix (mutt!) from the Boston Terrier Rescue Group of NC (link below).

All of us with full vocabularies got some part of what we wanted:

Girl 1 wanted another Boston: 

Boston (mix aka mutt) ✔

Dr Soc wanted a puppy:

11 months < year = puppy ✔

And I was adamant* we rescue or adopt

 * I was also adamant I would never get another puppy yet here we are so... 

I loves him! Thanks BTRNC ✔

89% of me loves him so so much

1% will always miss the girls over the rainbow bridge  

and 10% of me can't believe I got suckered into another puppy! 

Oh well! Welcome to the family Ryder!

Salty Bedtime

The past month bedtime with the girls has been...challenging. Bedtime routine is supposed to go:
- 7pm -

- Nighttime potty (Girl 1) /nighttime diaper* change (Girl 2)
- Vitamin
- Brush teeth
- Stories
- Kisses/hugs, go to rooms
- Sleep: around 7:30pm 

*We** are also trying to potty train at this time

**mom and dad are, Girl 2 is nope.    

Here's how bedtime routine actually goes:
- 7pm-7:30ish Shit it's bedtime -

- Nighttime potty (Girl 1) /nighttime diaper change (Girl 2)

1: Cajole into performing basic body function of going to the bathroom 

- Vitamin
- Brush teeth

fight over step stool, put toothpastes on tooth brushes. 1: whine/cry "I need help" because bodily function. 2: run giggling with the toothbrush in mouth  

- Stories
- Kisses/hugs, go to rooms

1: You need to go to your bed in your room. No you do not get another story. No it's not time to play with us. What do you want to show me? Yes you can play/listen to your music in your room but do so quietly. Shhh! Shhhh! (nothing is louder than girl 1 trying to be quiet)

- This part has been ALL ME the past month -  

2: Snuggle/rock. Exhaust. Lullaby. Put in bed. Put in bed. Put in bed... Eventually lay down in bed with mommy is snuggling.* Freak out/cry run if mommy inches** away.***  

*uncomfortably laying on the floor and toddler bed

**lay on floor next to bed trying to work out neck kink.

***literally scoot inch by inch towards the door while fighting all the lingering mommy exhaustion from the past month

- Sleep: 10pm or later

Tuesdays I get home from work around 8:30 so it's 100% dr soc/daddy bedtime. Last night went like:  

- 7pm

- Nighttime potty/diaper change

- Vitamin

- Brush teeth

- Stories

- Kisses/hugs, go to rooms

1: Plays fairly quietly in room until I come home and check on her. Thump. Thump. Thump. Honey, you need to whisper and and be still to be quiet. Thump. Thump. Thump. Repeat 17 times (give or take)

2: put in bed and fall asleep in 5 fucking minutes!!!!  

- Sleep: 1 no idea, late and mommy shushed as usual: 2: 7:fucking 30pm. 

I am thrilled all my work and rigmarole got girl 2 to sleep in 5 fucking minutes. But I am also salty as hell she fell asleep in 5 fucking minutes for dr soc.  So glad I made that part of parenting easier for my husband.  So yes, happy overall. But also incredibly salty because fucking hell 5 minutes with no snuggling, rocking, exhausting, parental yoga moves, inching away! What the hell kid?!

Fact Check

Apparently, facebook flagged this:

 as false and decided to shame me by labeling it so. This. A post a few people liked about a custom of women...wearing (1920s) bathing suits...eating pizza to annoy men. I mean I may not don a bathing suit* but eating pizza and as a bonus annoying men? YES. YES PLEASE. But this, this isn't factual? How disappointing. And also, I'm calling bullshit.

*restrictive clothing, duh, no thank you. Also how am I going to control men to not rape in a bathing suit? 

It's not like, a post on the popular custom of, say, racism. 
Or a post on a nonexistent pedophilia ring in a basement (also nonexistent) of a pizza parlor and a white male shot a gun into said pizza parlor. 

Or that the 2020 election was rigged. 

Or something from f*x news that always tells, informs yells, screams the truth vitriol, lies, misogyny, lies, animated, hateful rhetoric, lies, opinions of the fragile white privileged males people. Nothing that harmed or killed people.

No. A post about women eating pizza to annoy men must be fact checked and deemed as false. Because that is the real danger here.

But I suppose if these giant companies are now going to make a valiant effort hold everyone* accountable for their posts they have to start somewhere. 

*Except males, especially the old white powerful *ones. Males will never be accountable for anything.

*Especially them.  

Shame shame on me for not fact checking something that supports my ever growing desire to fuck the patriarchy.

Mom worry

 

This one’s peanut allergy has gone down!! Girl 2 is still allergic, but her reaction was significantly less than the last time we tested her. Such wonderful news, but even more so after yesterday’s diagnosis.

There will always be part of me that that worries about my kids. It’s impossible to turn off the mom worry. But not having to worry as much about her allergy is a relief. Getting the test was no picnic, she threw a massive tantrum when getting tested. Not that I blame her, your back got all pricked up and it itches like hell and the only thing you want to do is put your princess shirt back on but you can’t figure it out yourself and mommy isn’t helping that bitch. I totally get it. And as far as her speech delay goes, even though she’s not saying * as many words as she should at this age, I know she knows things. She can count 1 - 10, but she can recognize some of those the numbers* and point them out. 

*how’s me, the most talkative person in the world, having a speech delayed kid for irony? 

*she just correctly pointed to ‘for fucks’ on a number puzzle. Four frogs in the number four. See? She knows!

Oh darling girl, you are who you are and mommy loves you so much no matter what. 

Pick your battles

Dr soc has been on this eating healthy salad kick so ultimately I don't have to kill him for dying on me. Seeing as we've been together* for 11 years as of today I need him to stick around as my partner in crime, parenting hijinks coconspirator but mostly someone I can occasionally talk shit about when I'm deflecting from my own shortcomings. 

*as well as put a ring on it and let him get me pregnant twice 

Anyway, back to the salads, he eats a lot and prefers a larger bowl for his rabbit food. The largest bowls that we have are the mixing bowls, but I have a hard line that you do not eat from the mixing bowls. See I almost killed someone for always eating out of the mixing bowls and I could never use them for cooking when I needed* them. To save my future relationships and myself from heartbreak, I drew that line and decreed it a rule. Dr soc is awesome and obeys and I tweeted how glad I am for that because divorce is a lot of paperwork.  

*that same someone never did the dishes either 

I'm explaining the origins of that rule and a coworker who's been married for longer than I've been alive, and they decide to impart the following wisdom about marriage: pick your battles.

My response: I have! This is one. DO. NOT. EAT. FROM. THE. MIXING. BOWLS! 

Love you honey! Thanks for not making die on that* hill!

*I'm sure there will be others. I just don't have to die on that particular one.

Irony 2.0

The irony of  Girl 1 fighting me tooth and nail on her teeth* and nails is not lost on me.

*you may recall the teeth fight of 2020. Currently that war is at a lull but her checkup in December involved crying so her upcoming June appointment I don't know.

Now that she is a mature 5 year old the irony is this: The hill my child will die on is anything health related. 

• She will not take medicine, topical or internal. 
• She will not listen to her body for the bathroom.
• She will not blow her nose despite being unable to breath due to snot blockage or a river flowing from her nose 
• Refuses band aids and screams about any blood getting on anything and everything from refusing to cover it
• When she found out she had to go to the doctor because she mentioned to daddy her ear hurt, she said "I wish I hadn't said anything."*
• *This one actually worries me because I know she had to be hurting long and hard enough for her to even mentioned it. I don't want her to be afraid to say anything, ever. 
• Going to the doctor or dentist with her requires an iron will, Olympic sized bribes that never ever work which result to physically restraining her*
• *because that doesn't traumatize her at all and won't lead directly to the aforementioned fear of her being afraid to tell me anything.*
• *and that leads me to sobbing into my drink because OMG I hate that struggle so much and I do not know what to do so I cope by drinking and sobbing and questioning my entire ability of being a mom.

Uhhh, yeah. The irony here is that my child is willing to literally die on the health hill. Yeah.      

Talk Bubbles

To the surprise of no one, my girls are talkers. Ironically when they were born they both were so quiet the medical staff was concerned, even though they were perfectly healthy. Yeah, it was odd...

But after that, as soon as they figured out they could vocalize in some way they did. Girl 1 makes articulate affirmations (e.g. mischief, actually, memorized all said clear as a bell and used correctly) and Girl 2 has entire conversations and spouts platitudes in babble. 

And they are both savage AF. 

4.5: Mommy have you shrunk yet?

me: umm, no. I'm not that old* just yet.

4.5: Has daddy? Because he's kind old.*

*Chinese ladies are ageless forever and -poof- look 120 and start shrinking. True fact.

*He turned 40 in February and hehehehe. 

And also:

-sees pregnant mannequin at the store and says very loudly-

4.5: Mommy! That belly is really big - like yours!

me: no honey, there's supposed to be a baby i-

4.5: just like yours!  

SAVAGE.

As for girl 2, I don't know what my 2 year old was actually trying to say, but that had to be the cutest little "bitch bitch bitch" I've ever heard!

 

Dentist Drama Season Finale

So. The drama continued and concluded the following way:

- Stayed home from the babysitter all week and fell asleep on the bathroom floor for 3 nights, waiting us me out on the mouthwash. So we I conceded that loss. Then cried over my failure while simultaneously impressed at her ferocity. 

- Called our dentist (the one who discovered the cavities) and asked if they would sedate her. The answer: no, they only sedate adults. 

- Took her to a third (in network pediatric) dentist, who confirmed she had cavities, but, surprise! in obstinate 4 year old fashion wouldn't let the dentist actually do anything in their really* cool office. So we made plans to sedate - because it had to get done. In 3 weeks because that's the fist appointment we could get at the dental surgery center.

*I mean for fuck's sake they had a tv mounted on the ceiling and you could pick what tv show you wanted to watch! What the hell kid? This place is awesome!

- Rearranged my work schedule. Again. 

- Continued no treats (except special occasions like mommy's birthday cake).

- Took her to the pediatrician* to get her cleared to have general anesthesia.

*not sure if I'm slightly ashamed or proud that I impressed the pediatrician with my 4 year old wrangling/hog tying skills...  

- And this morning: we sedated. She managed to spit* out the relaxation syrup (yeah, sedation to sedate her) twice.

*once again unsure if  I should be impressed or ashamed 

But when they wheeled her bed back to anesthesiology and I couldn't go with her...my tiny, beautiful girl, I just...mom worry. But less than an hour later she was done and I could see her. She was cranky when she woke up from the anesthesia, but also, that's just my girl. At least now her cavities are fixed! We came home, watched tv, and got panera lunch. We're done! 

- Right. Not done. Because tonight she didn't want to brush those damn teeth causing all this drama because they felt funny but also refused to take any pain medicine for that. So I noped it and walked away. Because no. Just no. I'm done with this drama. Tonight at least. 

And this concludes our 2020 cavity drama theater.  

Dentist Drama

The excitement of Girl 1's first no crying successful* dentist visit was quickly tempered by the discovery of cavities. So a week later we go back to fill them and...nope. Reverted right back to the shrinking/wailing/terrified kid that we had to be referred to a pediatric** dentist. And when we went to that dentist she was even more terrified and screamed even worse, so the only treatment she received was a heavy fluoride treatment and was told to start using a mouthwash. When we go back to the not in network pediatric dentist in 3 months we have to hope that stopped them from growing, otherwise we have to put her under to treat her. All for teeth that she's going to lose eventually anyway. *cries*    

*Both visits prior she shrank into herself (and she's already pretty small) and wailed so much the dentist couldn't do anything in order not to traumatize her. 

**That's not in network. Of course not.

At least the mouthwash would be an easy enough stopgap measure right? *cackle* Fuck NO. The rigmarole at the dentists pales to the tantrums we've endured the past 3 weeks. My daughter fought me tooth and nail on her teeth...and nails* when she was a toddler and it's so. much. worse now.

*yeah, I know. The irony is not lost on me.

We have tried everything: No treats. No screen time. No puzzle with Grandma. We'll get her a Frozen II bed. No berry picking. Bribes. Go out for ice cream. Promises of Panera. Hugs. Kisses. Soothing tones. Screaming. Offering to do it with her. No Stories. Extra Stories. Walking away. And the one we thought would do it: No going to the babysitter's.  

Sunday night I sorta hog tied her with one arm and threw the mouthwash in her mouth while she thrashes and screamed with my other arm. Which went as well as it sounds. Monday night I told her she couldn't leave the bathroom until she did the mouthwash. She was begging to go to her bed (an entirely different battle for another blog for another day) and held on for an hour and a half before falling asleep on the bathroom floor. I was equal parts highly impressed at her ferocious tenacity and completely mortified she was asleep on the bathroom floor. 

 

So I don't know what to do. I don't know how to motivate her. I don't know her it seems. I never say the right things. I can't calm her down. I want to be a positive parent rather than a punitive one. I want to know what to do to help my girl. And I know this takes work but I wish it wasn't so fucking hard. This gargantuan effort it's taking to connect to my daughter makes me feel that I'm failing her. I'm not the parent I want to be and that hurts. And tonight the saga continues. Stay tuned.

Word Fun (but not really)

One of the two mass shooters* in the past 24 hours had the gall to post online their own racist manifesto before his killing spree. As if his diatribe is important. As if he is important.***

***Nope, not even. Fragile f*cking insignificance is more like it.

You know who else had a manifesto? Hitler. And there was a whole world war declaring that nazis are bad and they lost. The WHOLE WORLD.

So I am breaking down the word manifesto. Ahem. man - i - fest - o

• man: young white male
• i: self-important = hubris
• fest: fester
• o: cutesy sanitizing ending

So in conclusion - a "manifesto" is: a white young male's festering hubris. 

Choke on that.

* I. AM. FURIOUS.**
**for so many reasons

1. that this is another mass shooting and it won't be the last.
2. the inaction of thoughts and prayers.
3. the senate doing nothing. 
4. fragile masculinity and the patriarchy continuing to get away with actual murder. 
5. the NRA's propaganda. 
6. fill-in-another-abhorrent-reason here. 

Specialty Tupperware

A recent tweet thread of mine:

Like I said, it was from the dollar store, super bendy and wasn't all that great. It wasn't my good one.* But still. It's the principle of it. 

*which now I definitely won't bring in

Seriously. YOU. DON'T. TAKE. SOMEONE'S. SPECIALTY. TUPPERWARE.

Secrets

Dr soc took Little Turkey shopping with him for my Christmas gift, and reminded her don't tell mommy which she took to heart. She was well aware this was a secret. They get home from shopping and she is so excited. While daddy gets things out of the car she comes right over to me with her little hands covering the biggest smile on her face. She leans in and very emphatically whispers:

girl 1: Mommy! We didn't get you ponies!* --pause--
(dr soc walks in the house) 
girl 1: We got you a mug! 
dr soc: (face palm, laughing hysterically) Little Turkey! I just told you that was a secret! 
me: (laughing hysterically) That's why she whispered!

We were both laughing so hard that she actually started to look a little unsure that maybe she hadn't  done the right thing. I felt bad about that, so still giggling I beckoned her over and stage whispered if she wanted to know what we got daddy for Christmas. She nodded eagerly.
me: okay! We got him a pineapple! But shh! It's a secret!
girl 1: Okay! (turns around to face dr soc and whispers emphatically with hands over her mouth again) Daddy! We got you a pineapple!   

*Her gift suggestion. Also her suggestion for what we should get daddy, what the baby wanted and what she asked Santa Claus for. Got to hand it to her, she covered all her bases so that one way or another she was going to get those ponies.

Mommy Wars

I know the mommy wars have been around* forever, but social media made them hyper competitive and omnipresent. If you aren't humble bragging about being super mom with a #trope on social media, then why even bother? Which is total bullshit by the way. But whether you like it or not, the mommy wars have a way of finding you. Though the good news is even when they do find you, you don't actually have to compete (even though most people do because it's a vicious, vicious trap).

Me? I'm a just-enough mom. Just enough that you can't** mom shame me, while simultaneously setting expectations just low enough no one asks me to do anything either. Just enough. And then, when I am inevitably in charge of some class party/treat bag/bake sale/nonsense, I will absolutely rock it because I am an awesome hostess and will celebrate the shit out of whatever it is, and blow people's minds.

Just enough FTW

*My dad has a cousin one month older and one month younger than him because their moms (3 sisters) were in fierce competition with each other, over everything, and all the time.
**well you can, but not without being petty as fuck which then completely nullifies the superiority high of mom shaming. 

Upstairs/Downstairs

Girl 1 loves football. Ok she doesn't really love it. But it's pretty much the only tv we've put on in the house when she's awake so by default all tv is football to her.

Anyway, Sunday is football. Dr soc cheers for the Browns, I cheer for the Panthers and our teams usually play at the same time. So when they do, dr soc suffers through watches the Browns game on the downstairs tv, and I multitask while the game is on in the background watch the Panthers game upstairs. When dr soc watches "daddy's team" he is locked in and doesn't want to answer the litany of questions from the toddler (my kid talks a lot, to the surprise of no one), so girl 1 typically watches "mommy's team" upstairs with me since I'm not paying that much* attention. And mommy's team scores, so there's more cheering.

*see: multitasking while the game is on in the background

Anyway
 
Last Sunday girl 1 came downstairs before halftime, probably trying to avoid her nap tbh, saw Mike and excitedly said:
girl 1: Touchdown daddy! Touchdown upstairs. Not touchdown downstairs. 

Bwahahahaha!

Bleed Blue

My dad was an election official and our polling place was literally up the street. So I remember walking up there to bring him lunch and visit when we were kids. My dad rarely took a day off work, so that he was taking a whole work day off to do this maybe instilled in me voting is just what you do.

So you don't have to preach to me about going to vote. I will. I have. I just did. I've voted in every election I've been eligible to do so. Dad always made sure to send my sister and I absentee ballots all our college years. In fact, I think absentee ballot is the only way I voted my first few elections. As an idealistic 17 year old I registered as an Independent so I could only vote in the general election for a while there. But I'd still vote. Eventually I switched to Democrat so I could vote in the primaries, even thought I knew my blue party vote stood a snowball's chance in hell of counting in my Old Kentucky* solid red Home state.

And here it is, election day again, and I'm voting blue in a red area. The state is purplish (reddish purple really, but there is some blue in North Carolina. Some), but just over the county line more rural suburbia where I live is definitely red.     

I wonder what it's like to have a vote that counts?

Civic Duty done!** I took both girls with me because I think it's important for them to see me do so.

Principles over practicality.

*For a state that proudly claims to "bleed blue" they certainly vote red. 😣
** The sticker lady asked girl 1 if she or mommy got the*** sticker. Really? 1 sticker? You're going to break my child's heart and not offer her her own sticker? You have a whole roll! And it's not like enough people even vote in the first place and like you're going to run out?
***I let girl 1 have it when we left our polling place, but she gave it back to me when I left for work.