Crazy Expectations and Flying Laptops: a story of personal success

Trying to clean the living room…it sounds like such a good idea. It makes me sound like such a good house wife. I’m not lazy! I clean! But reality…oh, it’s harsh.

I start out with good intentions, I really do. My hopes are high (okay, more like my frustration level is high, in all honesty), and I attack the cluttered living room with a spring in my step (well, again, not quite honest, as it’s more compulsive twitching from the frappuccino I drank to give myself the energy to get off my butt…but ‘spring’ sounds nicer than caffeine-induced spasms). All seems well, relatively easy, just another normal day of cleaning… and then I remember that I have a toddler. I have a toddler, and nothing is well, nothing is relatively easy, and normal is a joke. I should have waited for his nap—any well meaning person who knows their advice is flawless and has to tell everyone how to make their life perfect (like theirs) will tell you to work while your toddler is sleeping, in order to be properly productive. However, his nap time is a glorious, sunshine filled hour or two of utter happiness and freedom that I cannot blemish with such trivialities as attempting a cleaner house or any other work-like activities that involve more than half of my brain power and/or excessive muscle usage (like walking further than the fridge). During those two hours, I am free! I can read more than two sentences in my book without an epic disaster to save my child from (how dare I look away from him for one second of mommy time? What are books-and laptops-other than evil, attention stealing devices?? How dare I find entertainment aside from His Royal Highness??)

SO, unwilling to give up a second of my precious, desperately coveted free time, I decided to clean WHILE HE WAS AWAKE.

I’m prepared, or so I think. His favorite cartoon: on. His favorite food: prepared and ready on the table. Sippy cup: filled with glorious milk. I even left out two of his favorite toys nearby, in case he wanted to turn away for some random play time in between snacking. I am a fantastic mom, aren’t I? Tell Levi that.

The cleaning starts. I’ve got a large garbage bag and the vacuum, and I’m READY! First I clear the couch… it only takes a minute, and I allow myself a moment of encouragement-it’s going pretty well. Then I bend over to pick up some cardboard that Levi has shredded (the larger pieces he wasn’t able to consume), and hear a huge CRASH! This is not just a simple crash, either, but a horrendous, there-are-potentially-dead-victims-mixed-in-this-tragedy-Crash.  Dread fills my soul. I’m still in the same position, arm extended, fingers frozen around a jagged piece of cardboard, and I whisper to it, “Give me strength, Oh lord, give me the strength to stand up, turn around, and not slaughter my child.” And then I stay in that position for a minute more, because it is completely silent behind me, and the only time it is completely silent is when my child knows he has done something horribly wrong, and is hiding because he knows what he has done is spanking worthy. And that’s extreme. Trembling, half from scared anticipation and the other half still jittery from caffeine, I turn around to see that my Glorious Child Whom I Love So Much has decided that he doesn’t LIKE the toys I left out for him to play with, (how DARE I assume I could pick out the right toys?), and has picked up the largest one, a child-sized laptop, and flung it with all of his toddler-might (which is CRAZY! How is this little string bean so strong???) at the plate of food that I had meticulously cut up (and arranged in orderly disarray on his plate, I’ll have you know), causing both the plate of food and laptop to go flying into the end table, which I have not yet had a chance to clean up. Should I mention here that the end table has loose dvds, books, pens, school papers, and miscellaneous chargers stacked on top of it? (Hello, this was why I was cleaning in the first place.)

Breath. Just breath. Keep breathing. Stop right eye from twitching so violently. Breath. Deep breaths. Why won’t my eye stop twitching? …And why can’t feel my legs…? Crazy. Turn away from the mess. Do I have a tic? Just have to walk away…

I successfully made it to the couch, I’m proud to say, before the tears started. Before I had to clamp my mouth shut to prevent harsh, angry words from flying out, questions that pertained to why my child hated me, why he didn’t appreciate me properly, why I couldn’t even clean the d*** living room—which was a disorganized mess because of him in the first place—without him having to ruin my good intentions. I want to be a good house wife! I want to prove to my husband that I CAN clean on a normal basis, that I’m not always lazy! I want to be able to invite friends over once in a blue moon, instead of avoiding anyone coming over because it looks like a tornado destroyed my home! WHY CAN’T I DO THAT, LEVI?? WHY DO YOU HAVE TO WORK AGAINST ME CONSTANTLY??

And just when I was really about to lose it, Levi walked over to the food he spilled on the carpet and started picking it up, putting it back on the plate. I sat there, watching him, and my anger at him evaporated. I was still exasperated at the state of the living room, don’t get me wrong—but I realized I had placed too high of expectations on myself. I was still going to be a good mom even if the living room was cluttered. I could take longer than an hour to clean, and even only do half of the job today, and I would still be okay as a house wife. Honestly, the world was not going to end just because my house was a bit messy. John never berates me or says anything harsh about the state of the living room, even when it is horrifically cluttered and toys are strewn everywhere. IT’S NOT A BIG DEAL!

I also know my child, although devious, is not defiantly trying to ruin my life. He IS just a toddler, and his tiny life is filled with daily frustrations that, to him, are just as important as my everyday issues. I’m glad I managed not to yell at him, because how will I teach him to deal with his own anger and frustration if he sees me unable to handle my own disappointments? There are much larger things for me to be upset about than the fact my toddler is acting like a toddler and making clean-up difficult. AND, he DID pick up his mess without me telling him to. I must be doing something right!

After that revelation, I determined I’d get back up and attempt to clean a bit more, and guess what?? My child magically turned into The Perfect Toddler and took his sippy cup, reclined in his rocking chair, and STAYED THERE UNTIL I HAD FINISHED CLEANING THE ENTIRE LIVING ROOM! I KID YOU NOT! He has NEVER done that before!

Lesson learned? Absolutely.

And my living room is clean!! J

Preconceived Notions and Overweight Abusers of Motorized Carts: Equally Ridiculous?

Today I was contemplating how crazy (I’d say ridiculously stupid, but that’s a tad harsh, even if true) my preconceived notions of parenthood were before I had Levi. First, when I was in my preteens, I decided that I wanted ten boys (as in kids, not boyfriends. Grow up). I figured boys should be easier than girls, and I wanted a lot of kids… so ten seemed like a good number. This eventually changed when I got a bit older and determined I couldn’t afford to send ten kids to school/college (and that was my ONLY reason then… how delightfully naïve was I??), and I determined I’d probably ONLY have four or five, a nice ‘small’ number.

What prompted me to want these kids in the first place? Well, there were the times I’d go to the beach and see adorable little toddlers in their sweet little bathing suits and hats, gleefully eating sand. Wouldn’t going to the beach be so much more fun with a baby? Along the same lines, I figured having a baby to go along with me to the fair, the zoo…you name it…If it was a public outing (aside from Six Flags), I thought having a baby to bring would make it So much more fun. I was also not a fan of shopping alone, and I wouldn’t have to call friends to go shopping with me if I had a constant companion, right?

Oh. Oh my gosh. First and foremost, when I get a day where I get to go shopping alone now, it is like… …how do I even begin to describe the gloriousness of such a moment? How can I explain the ecstasy; the indescribable joy and feeling of utter freedom as I climb into my car and crank the music to a level unsafe for Toddler ears? (Although I’ve learned shame since my teenage years, and lower the music level when waiting at red lights or when driving through housing communities. I’m not a monster.) Then at the store! Alone! I can stand and look at whatever I want for as long as I want! No sprinting from aisle to aisle… did I mention I can just randomly peruse aisles that don’t necessarily have anything that I might need? It doesn’t matter! And guess where my purse is? Sitting nicely in the spot where otherwise my toddler would reside, that spot where he likes to battle and scream and sob desperately after being manhandled (please, no one watching call CPS!) into getting his feet into the foot holes (torture devices in Levi’s mind, I assure you). How many times do we go through this, Levi?? This isn’t new! One foot HERE, and one foot HERE, it’s really very simple! You should be HAPPY you’re getting pushed around in the store! I would love a free ride while I’m grocery shopping! (However, I have too much shame to claim one of the motorized carts, which are apparently reserved for fat people (who were perfectly capable of walking INTO the store, I’d like to point out here, and have more reason than anyone to actively walk while shopping), or the lesser minority of injured or old people.)

But I’m getting WAY off topic here, aren’t I? Those motorized carts and the ppl who abuse them are a hot topic for me. (Another time, Alicia! Another time… let it go…)

What was I talking about? Oh yes, the fantasy world I lived in before Levi, and where I live NOW, in the harsh reality.

The harsh reality that has opened my eyes to the fact that bringing kids to anything outside of the house requires intense preparation and, even if executed perfectly, does not ensure the child will be happy and won’t scream their adorable little head off the entire time. Kids at the beach? HAHAHAHA that will be the DAY, let me tell you! I’m sure there are some super moms who attempt this, and do quite well at it, and have the patience for it. I’m NOT one of them. (I also hate sand, and imagining cleaning sand out of …well you know where… I’ll just say EVERYWHERE… on my child just makes me shudder.) When I go to the fair, it will be a treat if I get to leave Levi at home… (at least until he’s old enough to appreciate the fair, allow me to amend. Then it will hopefully be more enjoyable for everyone.) While gazing wistfully at those cute little kids in my teen years, I never took into consideration how hard it was to actually get those kids to those public outings. It’s so funny how having kids totally changes a person’s perspective!

Speaking of funny, I now laugh at the thought of having four kids (let alone ten. TEN! Can you imagine??). This laughter isn’t far from painful heart palpitations and panic, let me assure you. I am having a hard enough time figuring out if there’ll be a child #2. I can’t seem to get past that old desire of mine to have several kids. I think only children are lonelier, and would benefit in several different areas from having a sibling. However, one child is hard. That first year was so hard I still get overcome with emotion when I think about it. How do people with two kids deal with that first year, I wonder?? It boggles my mind just thinking about dealing with the exhaustion, and the inability to take a nap when the baby naps, because guess what? This isn’t your only child, and the other one will destroy the house while you try to pitifully attempt a 15 minute nap. I want to ask mothers of two if it is REALLY worth it, but of course by the time they have their second child, they think that child is worth it and can’t imagine life without them, so they won’t be looking at the issue from the same standpoint as I am now.

Ironically, after writing that, I realize that I am doing exactly what I did before… making assumptions when I don’t know what it’s like. I’m a tad bit more knowledgeable when it comes to having one, I’d like to claim… but I shouldn’t just blithely assume I know anything about what having two would be like, either.

Hmmmmmm…something to think about, I guess. I’m going to have to cut this short (haha SHORT, yeah right! I can write a short message/blog like I can hold my tongue when I see fat ppl on motorized carts at Walmart…) (which is to say I can’t, in case you weren’t following along closely enough), because I hear my child waking up from his nap. Until Levi’s next nap that coincides with my chores being done (or avoided, let’s be realistic), I bid you adieu!

The art of procrastination (as demonstrated by Yours Truly)

-Levi down for nap: check.

-Lunch fixed and consumed: check.

-Potty break: check.

-Facebook properly perused: check.

-Cleaning the laundry area (a chore I wrote up for myself yesterday, because I seem to think writing down what needs to be done will somehow motivate me more than just knowing in my head): Uh… get back to me on that. I’m sure I will find time to do that later.

-Blog (aka an excuse to avoid dreaded chores by making myself look busy, as I write about what I was supposed to do and how I’m not doing it): CHECK!

I may be avoiding a chore (that, come on, doesn’t REALLY need to be done that badly… it’s not like, “Oh no! The house will clearly be uninhabitable if the laundry area doesn’t look neat! This will definitely affect my child’s mental capacity, as well as give him ADHD and potentially afflict him with early onset teenage angst!!), but I’d like to think I’ve been decently productive today. I put together a shelf, and I believe I get bonus points because, instead of using it as a decorative shelf as originally planned, I used it to clear up a BUNCH of OTHER shelves filled with dvd cases and loose dvds. I have to say, that corner of the living room does look LOVELY now. I just have to go back to Target and buy more shelves now that I’ve learned how awesome they really are. SCORE! And only $15!! …See? Very productive, AND unselfish. So far, so good.

What else have I done today, you ask? Well, that shelf might score as the major thing of the day so far, but I DID make my child his favorite meal of ravioli for lunch. No simple task, that! Now, it could be that I’m horribly OCD about really stupid things when it comes to food (yeah, it’s probably that), but I have to make sure all the ravioli have sauce evenly spread over them, with no spot left uncovered, and then they have to be properly arranged on the plate. I don’t think I’m being TOO crazy about this. Who wants an unsauced bite of ravioli? And if they’re not arranged properly, then they don’t heat right and one bite will horrifically burn your mouth, and the next bite will still be half frozen. This is an art, I tell you.

Is that Levi I hear crying? I just put him down not even an hour ago… please tell me he hasn’t taken his nap yet… I’m not ready for Mommy Time to end just yet…

Turns out I forgot to give him his binky when I put him to bed. What kind of horrible mother am I?? I forget this one thing today, what will it be tomorrow?? I can only imagine the horrible, terrible things I might forget that will forever detrimentally affect my child in the worst imaginable way!

Okay, I’m not really that worried about it. What I AM worried about with this Binky issue, however, (I was contemplating this on my way back to my laptop) is what I am going to do when it is time to wean him off of it. I shudder to think of the hell we will be propelled into during the fight to teach him to sleep without its comfort. I’m not joking. He LOVES his binkies. Has since day one, when he came out screaming and the nurse spent under 2 minutes with him and said, “This one’s definitely a Sucker.”  (Don’t be immature). If (and that’s a HUGE IF) John and I decide to have another child in the future, I really hope we can bypass the whole binky thing. Those first few months where they can’t keep it in their mouth, or put it back in by themselves when it falls out, is tedious and torturous. Several times I contemplated duct taping it to Levi’s face. Then, once he could crawl (and eventually walk), his binkies would disappear, never to be found again. When we move, I expect that we will find 20+ binkies strewn about that we thought we would never see again. He needs his binkies to fall asleep, needs them in his car seat, needs them when out in public (if he’s in a fussy mood). Now, I realize there are many moms who might say, suck it up! He’ll cry and get over it! But this is where my Lazy Mom Affliction comes into play. Let me clarify: Most of the time, I won’t give Levi something just because he’s screaming for it and I want him to stop. That would teach him horrific habits and I’d rather die than be “That Mom,” or have to deal with the monster he would inevitably turn into. However, I don’t want to LISTEN to those screams if I simply don’t have to, if a Binky will quiet him up. I also don’t want to listen to him cry forever at night when he’s trying to fall asleep, especially if putting a Binky in his mouth will cause him to instantly pass out. I have this faint hope that this situation will somehow work itself out in good time, that one day Levi will suddenly decide that he doesn’t need his binky to fall asleep, and he can be content and quiet just with his mouth shut. However, I don’t want that to be when he’s 13. Can you say AWK-WARD? Ugh… well, this isn’t something that is an issue at this moment. So I’m going to do with it what I did with the laundry area business from earlier… I’ll put it off til later, because I’m sure in the future I will have time and energy to deal with it. Right?

By the way, I totally did NOT intend for this blog to talk about Binkies. Heh.