Children For Sale!

Thank you very much for saying that I have well behaved children. Said me to anyone who has ever watched my kids. I need to start getting under cover cameras hidden so I can watch this. I don't know who are talking about. MY Children? You think MY kids are well behaved?
Yes, I understand that my kids behave for other people. Even when they were in daycare, Ellie Never spoke ( and if you know Ellie, this is miraculous ) and Georgia was just a sweet, happy baby.
MY Kids behave? Sure, for you they do, not me... their mother... the one who brought them into the world. Of course they don't behave for me.

When Ellie hit 2 we thought "wow, we should have waited to see what a devil child we were going to have being 2 before we had another baby." Ellie was 18 months old when Georgia was born, and when she turned two, boy was it like a light switch of naughty-ness. She would throw temper tantrums, shout NO all of the time, not eat her food, beat up her sister... the list goes on and on. It's typical terrible two behavior. Rotten. When she hit three ( and I had heard from moms that three was way worse than two and that frightened me ) she really did get worse. She's incredible articulate for her age and has a way of talking back that makes it sound like a 16 year old is talking back to you. Not fun. For some insane reason, we decided that we needed another baby while our daughter was experiencing these gruesome threes. And so, we had another baby before our second daughter was two.
When Georgia turned two, she still got terrible. But mostly it was a copy cat reaction from following the bad behavior of her sister. Sure, I get that. I am an older sibling and I remember my sister following me around all the time. How annoying, ( Sorry, sis, it was. ) So, Georgia is no exhibiting bad behavior because her older sister is fairly rotten. How do I know this? When we have them apart, Georgia is an absolute sweetheart. She says "Yes Mom." and "No Mom." and "Thank you, Mom." What a sweetie! But of course, when her older sister is around it's "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" And not followed by any sweetly mom retorts. Nope.

A couple of months ago we were in Kohls. ( Gosh, I reference Kohl's a great deal, I don't go that often, I swear! ) Anyway, we were in Kohl's looking for a dress for me for my husband's Christmas Party. Ellie was refusing to sit in the cart. Flat out refusing. So, I told her that she could walk beside me as long as she kept her hands to herself, She did pretty well. The occasional hand would jut out and she would touch something "pretty." I remember walking by the jewelry case and her pressing her snotty nose up against the glass and then proceeding to lick it. I was so grossed out.
"Stop that! It's disgusting!"
She wouldn't. I grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her away from the glass.
She shouted at the top of her lungs "LET GO OF ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!"
I told her to stop it. And then...
"NO I WON'T STOP IT! LET GO OF ME! YOU'RE A BAD MOMMY!"
Holy Crap! Did MY kid just say that to me? I was so embarrassed that I snatched them up and ran out of there. I had no idea what to do or say.

I don't get embarrassed very often. I think its funny when my kids scream or throw a fit in a store because they aren't getting what they want. That's normal kid behavior ( although my mom says I never did it )
I just look at the people who are staring at me and say "They're -- whatever age they are at that time "
If they've ever had a kid, they understand what I am talking about. Most people offer pity or sympathy or even empathy. I don't care if someone can't understand my kids' behavior, it happens. I feel bad when it happens to other moms or dads as well.
Our kids don't always act like we want them to. But our kids are their own people. My oldest red haired daughter is incredibly independent. She doesn't like help and she doesn't like to be told what to do, This is bad. She needs to respect people. She does, however, that person never is me. It's always someone else.
We are working on it. Daily. She's not nasty every day, but there are the days when she's rather out of control. Like the Kohl's day. Yikes.

So, when you say my children are well-behaved little angels. Thank you. At least some of it is sinking in and they are good for someone else.

Note to self.

I am in no shape to be giving relationship advice. We all do it. We give out our own story or experiences to someone, hoping that in some way, it will help them. I wouldn't take anyone's advice. I probably wouldn't even take my own. If 31 year old me could go back in time to talk to 21 year old me and tell me to break up with my current boyfriend because I knew for a fact that he would cheat on me, I probably still wouldn't listen. I'm a stubborn cuss. I'd probably say "No way, I'm going to change my fate, you wait and see."
That would have never happened. The same thing would have happened to me, and I'd still have experienced the same things.
And you know, I wouldn't change a thing. I don't regret anything about my past. Everything I did or did not do has led me to the place that I am in right now.
If I had left my boyfriend at 21 instead of 25, I'd be somewhere different. The planets wouldn't have aligned and I wouldn't have reconnected with my husband. ( I say reconnect because we went to high school together, and have known each other since we were 14. ) I also wouldn't have realized what its like to be happy in a relationship. I mean, really happy. Happy Happy. Happy in a way I thought only existed in fairy tales. I thought I was happy before, and then when I dated my husband I became really aware as to what being treated right was. Do I think I am lucky? Yes. But I also believe that I am supposed to be treated this way. I never would have known what it is like to be treated like a Queen if I hadn't been poorly treated. Not exactly poor, per say, but just not every made a priority in the relationship. Then that leads to being unhappy. I know what its like to be unhappy and to have someone display the behaviors that lead two people to split up, so seeing and being with someone who displayed none of those characteristics was like winning the lottery. My husband puts my needs before his own. "You're crazy!" I'd think. I was always the one doing that in the relationship before. Giving, and making sure the other was taken care of. What a crazy, unbelievable feeling to have someone do that for me?! You want to make sure my needs are met before your own? But, but I do that. No one has done that for me before. Wow.
My husband still treats me this way. After three children and four years of marriage, we are excruciatingly happy.
But don't get me wrong, there are also the days that I don't like him. I love him. Sometimes I don't like him. Some days we don't get a long. Sometimes we argue. We are together all the time. We get to the point where we sometimes just need some space. It happens. But at the end of the day, I thank my lucky stars for all that I have.
I can tell you that because I give him the love and respect that he deserves, that he returns that to me. I don't have any advice for you other than that. We're a good couple. We're compatible. We have the same likes and dislikes. Our stances on family and religion and politics are synced. We like the same music. We both want the same things out of life, and we are just happy to be with one another. But we love each other, respect each other, and try to make sure that the other person's needs are met to the best of our ability.

Why all the talk of relationships and advice all of a sudden? Next week is the anniversary of our first date together. I was getting a little nostalgic about it.
2007::  I had just gotten out of a long-term relationship of 7 years ( as noted before ) and I was in no place to start dating again. I was going to be a cat lady and live in my parents' basement for the rest of my life. Seriously. I didn't want to be hurt again, and I certainly didn't think I would ever recover. Ever. So, the ever wonderful Facebook reconnected myself and Andy. He messaged me and asked me how I was doing, etc, etc... I responded and he asked me to go to a movie on that Friday. I accepted. I had always had a crush on him in High school. We passed notes in German class and I used to draw his shoes. He never asked me out, I never asked him. Bad timing, I guess? So, I was a little nervous what his intentions were when we went out. He says that they were to just hang out with an old friend. Mine too. ( I think he may have had a crush on me as well and wanted to see if I would say yes. Well, I did. Of COURSE I did! )
We talked. A LOT. We talked the whole night and after the movie was over and I drove him back to his apartment, he gave me a hug. I left that night with a sense of optimism that I hadn't felt in a long time. It was nice. We went out the next night and weren't a part from each other for months. We literally saw each other every day! Friendship, pretty quickly, sprung into love. The rest is history. We are friends. We have been friends a long time, and now we're husband and wife. I love him so much. I love him more now than I did before; for giving me the kind of relationship that I have always wanted. For my family. I love him more with each baby we bring into the world. It's crazy how much I love this man.
So I say to you naysayer who is pissed at love and relationships: Don't be discouraged. It can happen to you. And maybe when you least expect it.
I went through a lot to get here, and a lot of those things I wouldn't wish upon enemies; but I wouldn't change anything. Not a single thing. Every experience has made me the person I am today, and put me in the place that I am right now. And I am happy with the way things turned out.

So 21 year old me. If you're somehow reading this: keep on doing what you're doing. You'll go through what seems like hell and back, but in the end... it will all be happy in the end. I promise. I know. I can make that promise. You will live happily ever after. I mean it.

Do You Believe in Magic?

I have written before about the awesome responsibility that I have recently realized that I have taken on as a parent. With Christmas coming, I realize that I must now play Santa. Not the real Santa, because we all know that Santa isn't real. ( and I AM SO SORRY if you are hearing this now, I didn't mean to burst your bubble )
Santa isn't real, but if you've watched ANY Christmas movie about believing in Santa, you will hear that "seeing isn't believing, believing is seeing"
So, to those naysayers, Santa exists in the hearts of those who believe. I believed in Santa until I was about 8  or 9. I found my toys from Santa in the basement one year. I got the pink and red Barbie doll from Santa and figured out that it was my parents because I had found it in the basement earlier in the month. I wasn't broken hearted, and it didn't crush me. I just kept the illusion to my parents that I believed in Santa. Until I became a snotty teenager who was too good for Santa, that is. Sorry Mom. :)
But now... I Am Santa?! AND The Easter Bunny AND the Tooth Fairy, and every imaginary creature that sneaks into your home to leave you something. Wow. That's a heavy load to shoulder. I get to determine the way my kids interpret Santa Claus, and the others, based on what we do for them and how we approach it. So far, we have visited Santa every year and the kids have told him what they want. This year Ellie is four. She actually gets that the man in the red suit drives a sleigh with reindeer and brings presents to you based on a naughty and nice list. He comes down your chimney ( and if you don't have one, uses magic to make one ) and he eats your milk and cookies.
Last night she was making a trap for Santa. To catch him when he comes to the house. I told her she has a while to wait for that. It was quite funny, though.
I hope my kids continue to believe in Santa for a long time. If not for their own sake, or mine, at least for some day when they have kids of their own.

I recently came across this letter that has been floating around Pinterest. It's written by another mom. It was pretty much how I was feeling about the situation.

Dear Lucy,

Thank you for your letter. You asked a very good question: “Are you Santa?”

I know you’ve wanted the answer to this question for a long time, and I’ve had to give it careful thought to know just what to say.

The answer is no. I am not Santa. There is no one Santa.

I am the person who fills your stockings with presents, though. I also choose and wrap the presents under the tree, the same way my mom did for me, and the same way her mom did for her. (And yes, Daddy helps, too.)

I imagine you will someday do this for your children, and I know you will love seeing them run down the stairs on Christmas morning. You will love seeing them sit under the tree, their small faces lit with Christmas lights.

This won’t make you Santa, though.

Santa is bigger than any person, and his work has gone on longer than any of us have lived. What he does is simple, but it is powerful. He teaches children how to have belief in something they can’t see or touch.

It’s a big job, and it’s an important one. Throughout your life, you will need this capacity to believe: in yourself, in your friends, in your talents and in your family. You’ll also need to believe in things you can’t measure or even hold in your hand. Here, I am talking about love, that great power that will light your life from the inside out, even during its darkest, coldest moments.

Santa is a teacher, and I have been his student, and now you know the secret of how he gets down all those chimneys on Christmas Eve: he has help from all the people whose hearts he’s filled with joy.

With full hearts, people like Daddy and me take our turns helping Santa do a job that would otherwise be impossible.

So, no. I am not Santa. Santa is love and magic and hope and happiness. I’m on his team, and now you are, too.

I love you and I always will.

Mama

I really enjoyed this. I agree. I'm not really Santa. Santa is an idea and exists in the hearts of those who choose to keep that spirit alive.
It's the belief in magic and whimsy and all things we can't see or touch. Right now my kids believe in fairies. I love this. I think seeing things through a child's eyes also makes me want to, and truly get excited about them believing in these things.
When my kids ask if there's Santa, I am going to RUN To my computer and pull up this blog, or my Pinterest page, or my facebook page and read it to them. Maybe I should just print it and them put it up for safe keeping. Yeah, that's a much better idea. :)

Do You Hear What I Hear?

I can't listen to the song "Do You Hear What I Hear"
It's a BEAUTIFUL Song that is usually only played around Christmas time, about the birth of Jesus.
I still can't listen to it. Even when its sung as beautifully as Carrie Underwood sings it:

It's lovely and it has an important message.
But consarnitt, I've been ruined by the movie "Gremlins"
IF you haven't seen this adorable/gruesome holiday horror classic, I will have to full you in a little bit.

Taken from the IMDB Website: 

A boy inadvertantly breaks 3 important rules concerning his new pet and unleashes a horde of malevolently mischievous monsters on a small town.

So, these monsters begin reeking havoc on the town, starting in the home of the boy. These Gremlins start terrorizing his mother, and as she's looking around the house for the creatures, the record player begins playing the song "Do you hear what I hear." She then proceeds to find the Gremlins in her home, carrying a knife around the house, in typical 80's horror movie style. 
-- Let me make this clear. If I was going to watch a movie that was scary in any way, my mom was always sitting beside me making sure I wasn't scared. And if I was, she always explained what was going on. It didn't matter if it was Gremlins, Jaws, or even a scary scene in the Care Bears movie with a scary character. If I was ever upset by anything, she was always there to clarify what was going on for me. Gremlins has an adorable mogwai in it ( see photo above ) His name is Gizmo. I was in Love with this li'l guy when I was little. He's adorable and I'm sure I wanted to see the movie for that reason. 
Anyway,
This movie was released in 1984. I don't know if that's the first time I saw it. It may have been when I was around 5 ( if I did in 1984, that means I was 3 years old ) 
But seeing that movie at such a young age pretty much concreted the song in my brain as being identified with that movie, and that particular scene in the movie. Not a pleasant one, needless to say. It's meant to strike a little sense of urgency of getting out of that scene into someone. 
I really wish I could listen to that song. 
Then I started thinking about all of the things that made my memory jog like that, the songs and smells and tastes. My husband can't eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal because he got sick as a teenager after eating it. It brings back bad memories. 
I also had a similar experience from chocolate chip mint ice cream. I can't eat it. It makes me sick. 
I know that no can hear than infamous, ominous song in Jaws without feeling like they need to hurry up. When swimming sometimes as a kid I would hear the song in the back of my head and hurry up to the edge of the pool ladder! ( if you ever swam in a pool, don't tell me that didn't ever happen to you ) 

It's funny how your brain makes associations between things like that. It's not always bad ones, either. 
And for some reason, me hearing the above song has blocked out any good examples that I may have. 
I'm sure you have them, songs and foods and smells and activities that excite a certain nostalgia in your brain and take you to a happy place. :) 

That's the Way the Cookie Crumbles.

I like to cook.
I do not like to bake.
I had this discussion with my mom last night. She's a baker and likes to make all kinds of things from scratch. I seriously love her cinnamon rolls and her apple pie is my favorite of all time. I did not inherit that gift of the love of baking. We started to talk about why.
Baking is way more exact than cooking. It's precise measurements that go in at specific times.
With cooking you can be a lot more liberal with the amounts that you put into your food. I tamper with recipes all the time and use substitutions or add something or omit when I don't like something.
Baking isn't like that. You need all the ingredients to work together to create your food.
I use a lot of recipes when I cook. If you haven't read any of my previous blogs ( shame on you ) - you should know that I search for recipes on Pinterest quite often. I also have cookbooks that I use as well, and will repeat good recipes that my family enjoys. I swear that its never the same recipe, though. I always add a little more or a little less of an ingredient based on how I am feeling that day.
Garlic? YES! I'm going to add more garlic than what that recipe calls for, I'm feeling pretty garlicky today.
Or, the recipe will call for apple juice and I will add Woodchuck instead for a little zing.

This is a recipe that I wrote down exactly what I changed on it, and what worked and we all enjoyed:

Note the splatter marks on the bottom. I use this recipe, not a lot, but frequently. We like it.

Don't get me wrong, I DO bake on occasion. I will make a box cake or muffins or even sometimes I will be daring and sometimes make things from scratch. I'm really good at making a personal brownie in a large coffee cup for when I want to eat just one brownie and I don't want the kids to know what I am eating. Yeah Yeah, sometimes I don't like to share. I usually end up sharing anyway.

Christmas is right around the corner! Yikes! I'd better get to baking some Christmas cookies, right? It's the traditional thing to do. I usually make cookies. I make some crinkle cookies, peanut butter blossoms, and I even make some Rolo pretzels. This year my husband wants me to make a Polish cookie that is a family recipe passed down from his mother. YIKES!!! Am I up for that?! As I prefaced earlier, I don't really enjoy baking and sometimes I don't always make the best confections. Am I really going to take on something that his mother has made for years and had that time to perfect these? The pressure is on. I don't want to mess it up and them be compared the ones his mom makes! ( which are awesome )
Why, or why must I make the Polish cookies this year? I wish there was a way to put my own flair on the cookies instead of baking being such an exact science. With savory foods I can create my own spin on them and change something to make it my own. With baking, I cannot. I will be trying to recreate something my husband has enjoyed for years! Years. He says they're his favorite and wants me to start making them now.
Oi Vey.
I will attempt them. I think I may google the cookie ( I have to go look up how to spell it first )
Maybe I will find a different version of them and add a little bit of my flair to them.
Or will I? Do I want to do that? It's a traditional family recipe! Do I dare tamper with tradition?
We shall see...

Fessing up

I'm going to fess up to something that I've been facing for the past several months, and have dealt with in the past. I'm coming clean, and I'm hoping that writing about it will help me deal.
You're reading this in anticipation, sitting on edge wondering what I'm about to confess to!
It's nothing glamorous or torrid, or anything of the sort. Fact is, its something that a lot of women deal with, and its the second time that I have.
I have PPD, or for people who aren't familiar; PostPartum Depression.

It's a depression that happens after having a baby. I'm told it can happen up to any time after delivering a baby. It happened to me when Georgia was 6 months old, and this time around the same time with Delilah.
Don't worry, if you've read the symptoms and are worried about me hurting myself or the baby -- its not like that. PPD covers a really broad range of feelings and emotions. For me its anxiety and anger, and overall feeling of mopeyness.
I knew something was wrong when the smallest, minute things would make me mad. And not just any kind of mad -- like a crazy "Hulk Smash " mad. Seriously. I felt bad for my kids and husband because the smallest things would set me off. That wasn't me. It was usually the result of anxiety building up inside of me.
When you come home from the hospital, PPD is monitored by paperwork you have to fill out when you visit your OB and when you take your infant to the Pediatrician. ( mine is, at least ) There are questions on this questionaire asking about how well you're dealing with things, if you're so sad you cry a lot, if you have trouble sleeping because you are depressed. Well some of the questions are stupid. Things are getting on top of me? Really? I have three children now and I have to clean up after them, myself and my husband. Things may occasionally get on top of me. Yes. Thanks for reminding me that I have laundry to do when I get home.
But seriously. I was never really honest when it came to those things. I never felt depressed, or sad or like hurting anyone or myself. I just felt like I was always in a state of being wound up tighter than a spring, waiting to pounce at any time. And when I did - oh boy. Do NOT be in the same room as me. It was terrible.
So, upon admitting to myself ( really hard ) that I was not getting better and the fact that I was striking fear into the hearts of those I loved, I took myself to the Dr and told her that I felt as though I had PPD.
So, I have PPD. Now what? I am getting better. I am coping quite well and do not "hulk smash" things as much anymore. I can ask for help if I need it and the overwhelming feeling of having too much to do is subsiding. I am taking some medication to help with the anxiety, but I like to regulate that on myself because I feel as though if I just ask for help when I need it and talk through what angers me, that I can pull myself out of this state I am in. Some days I don't feel like that. Some days I want to lie in bed all day long. To be truthful, some days I don't clean a thing in the house and the kids and I just watch Disney Princess movies all day. I can do better than that, though... and I will. Eventually. Let's take it one day at a time.
Don't feel bad. Because I only sometimes have pity parties for myself. I will be okay. Admitting that I wasn't right was the hardest thing for myself because I'm not one to ask for help. Asking for help was hard for me. I'm not sure why. But this time I recognized what was wrong in myself and immediately took myself to the Dr. I also asked my husband for help with things and told him I was overwhelmed. Even though he was also overwhelmed with a lot of things, he stepped into his husband and father role and it helping me quite well.
I can't imagine that there's never a time that any mom doesn't feel like she needs to lock herself in the bathroom for couple of minutes and scream into a pillow. Or is that just me? No. I have heard from other moms that they sometimes need to take a minute to regroup as well.
So, if for some reason lately you think I've been hermit-ish and lingering around my home a lot and being anti-social. Well, I have been. It's not anyone's fault. I am just dealing with things as I see fit. And taking children out by myself sometimes springs unwanted anxiety attacks. I'm not sorry. But if I have excused myself from an event or anything lately, please don't take it personally.

I actually feel better having admitted these things. For anyone else who is dealing with it and feels like they want to talk about it. Send me a message/email. Drop me a line/whatever. I heard that talking to other people with it makes things better. I actually messaged a friend recently about it and she told me the things that she was going through when she had PPD. It made me feel like I was normal, because she was feeling the same things as I was. >Phew, I'm not a Loony Toon After all! <

Stand Back! I'm About to Rant!

Warning.
The following blog contains a rant.
This isn't aimed at anyone in particular or to make anyone else upset or mad in the process. So, if you're one of the people I am ranting about, don't take it personally...
...or do....
Today we went to Kohl's to get Andy some fancy new duds. Well, not really. We had to return a belt and he needed some new khakis. I had to go and supervise to make sure that he was getting the right pair of pants. You know, wifely duties.

If you've ever been to Kohl's you will know that they have stroller/carts/stroller cart baby carrying carts in the store.
 I never take my double stroller in, the thing weighs a good amount and its a little hard to maneuver in and out of the aisles in that department store. So, I usually grab one with one kid seat in the front, or the one with two. I can fit all three off my kids in the one with two seats in the front, and I can put Delilah in the carseat on the basket in the back. It's awesome. It's the only place I can do this. So, when we went there today, Andy grabbed Delilah in the car seat because she fell asleep on the way there and we didn't want to take her out of the seat to wake her up. I had the other two girls and we were ready to get a stroller inside. There were none. No biggie. We went to the other side. There was one, but it only had a singular basket on it, and you can't put the car seat on it. So, Andy proceeded to carry Delilah, in the car seat, around the store. Delilah now weighs 19 lbs. Then there's the weight of the car seat. It starts to weigh you down after a while.
We started at the back of the store, where I had to return a belt. We made our way back up to the front of the store, and I checked again for a stroller. I watched a woman walk away with a stroller that had the baby carrier on the front ( specifically made for car seats ) She looked at me, and then Andy, and continued to walk away with the stroller. Maybe she was taking it to someone else who had a baby? ( I was trying to be optimistic about the whole thing. Andy hates it when I get into confrontations with people when he's around. Like when I get crappy with the people in the drive-thru. If I saw Thank You and they don't say anything back I get pissed and tell them that they need to say THANK YOU to customers. It makes him uncomfortable when I tell people they aren't doing their job. ) Anyways! -- The lady walked away with the baby carrying stroller. I walked to the other side of the cash stand again and found a stroller. Hazah! Andy was able to put Delilah above the basket and Georgia was able to sit in the stroller. Ellie is better about sticking right next to us than Georgia is. She has a leash because of it. Not the point, though.
We passed several people in Kohl's pushing a stroller/basket/whatever they're called, and none of them had children with them. The lady who took the one with the car seat holder - she did not have a baby to put in it, and I saw her pushing it around dangling clothes off of it. I saw that and I could feel the vein in my forehead starting to throb. But I didn't say anything. It's a little my fault. I could have taken my stroller into the store. I could have. But Kohl's offers strollers for people with children. They also offer hand held bags for people to place items into. These are for the people who do not have children. It drives me batshit crazy to see parents toting around children because there are no strollers available, due to the people who do NOT have kids pushing them around dangling clothes from them. It's all well and good for them to use the strollers when there are a large number of them still available. For the lady who saw me and my husband with three children, one of them in a car seat -- shame on you. You're lucky my husband was with me or you would have gotten an ear full. I'd say its right up there with parking in a handicapped stall and not being handicapped. You're using someone else's advantage for your own and not considering the fact that you are creating an imposition for someone else. Okay, maybe I am over reacting a bit? Am I? Yes, I have three kids and it's rough for me to tote them all around, but am I wrong that the lady should have given up the stroller when she saw that there was a baby being carried around and she didn't need it for that reason?
It's called courtesy, people. I'm going to teach it to my children.
Like opening doors and holding them for people.
Once I was going into Gordmans, pregnant as could be, holding Ellenore... I was walking behind a couple and the lady let the door slam in my face. She saw me. She commented on my daughter in the parking lot before making her way into the store.
Andy wasn't with me that day. I proceeded to tell her how rude she was.
But that's neither here nor there. Common courtesy. I'm going to teach it to my kids. Because I go batshit crazy when people don't have it, and I don't want someone to think they've grown up with their mother not teaching them to be kind to other people.