Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk, and other old fashioned sayings that I never thought would apply to me

I really need to watch what I say.

The other day, while talking on the phone to my cousin Sarah (this happens quite a lot), I mentioned that I hoped I wouldn’t be the type of mother who overreacts to something as simple as spilled milk. Well…let me be totally honest… I said I hoped I could STOP overreacting to Levi spilling his milk. I remember getting screamed at as a child because I accidentally dropped a pitcher of orange juice all over the floor because it was too heavy. I remember feeling both ashamed and angry, because after all, it WAS just an accident… why was it such a big deal? I swore I would never react that way to my OWN children… heaven forbid!

I should’ve known better.

It appalls me to no end that I react EXACTLY the same way. I never have time for a 10 second cool down because I react immediately… and then hate myself afterwards. How is it that these stupid little things get to me so badly? Why can’t I see it from my son’s perspective? I was young once, and I knew what it was like to get yelled at constantly… why can’t I learn from that?

So, OK….I’ll learn from it. It’s never too late, right?

SO that fatal conversation happened early on Wednesday morning (ok, who am I kidding? It felt early to me, but it was after noon, definitely. There’s no early phone convos going on with this late riser). I uttered those words, feeling conviction and a bright spark of hope that I COULD change my ways! I could totally change my reactive personality by sincerely announcing good intentions! Right?

That bright spark (of hope, remember?) would’ve served me better if it had been a lightning bolt of reality, sent to strike me as a warning that Plans Announced Out Loud will immediately set into motion Situations To Test and Challenge. How could I forget? Did I really think change would just happen magically?

Tragically, yes.

I kid you not---less than one hour later, I handed Levi his sippy cup, then sat down to watch an episode of Heroes (GREAT show! Why did it take me so long to get hooked? Although, not gonna lie, there are way too many twists in every single episode. I mean, come ON.) ANYWAY, Levi, with full sippy cup in hand, decides he isn’t thirsty, so he TOSSES his sippy cup onto the couch. He was aiming for the cup holder at least, but his aim isn’t great and those sippy cups only give the illusion that the cap on top can prevent spills. Luckily, I managed to grab it before the top came off, but there was still milk splattered over half of the couch. With my recent conversation with Sarah fresh in mind, I actually laughed to myself, thinking I should call her back and let her know how ironically funny this was. If only I had known.

I shouldn’t have laughed to myself. My amusement only added to the Tide of Trials that was, unbeknownst to me, looming dangerously in the near distance. I’m not kidding. The irony of this situation has taught me to tremble with fear at the thought of carelessly tossing out a chuckle at a seemingly innocent Life Lesson.

Levi managed to make it through that sippy cup without further incident, and I mistakenly believed I was in the clear. What an easy lesson! I am, as we used to say back in the day, The Bomb! (I should erase that. Do I really need to sound like more of a Grandma? I already quilt and scrapbook constantly. Siiigh.)

Then came Sippy Cup #2. You can probably guess what essentially happened, with the outcome being spilled milk everywhere. Of course. I don’t need to go into details, but I did not respond well. On the plus side, I did NOT scream. At first, I just kind of stared in shock and realized, with a horrific jolt, that I was being tested. Twice in one day, after LITERALLY discussing spilled milk this morning? I didn’t have to be Einstein to realize the connection. However, I was still angry. Levi had spilled the milk ON PURPOSE. That’s fine, Levi! I don’t mind having to go to the store EVERY OTHER DAY for TWO (yes, TWO!) gallons of milk! Oh, what? The cost of milk has shot up to a ridiculous $3?? WHO CARES! We’re MADE of money, right?! I’m pretty sure, although I didn’t yell, that what I did had just about the same effect, as I got in Levi’s face and essentially growled, through tightly clenched teeth, what I thought of his actions. I then stormed off (after cleaning up the milk), to sit and agonize over how I had knowingly recognized a test and failed it.

It was a really, REALLY bad day for me. Why is it that I make decisions that affect my personal growth on days that inevitably turn out to be so intensely overwhelming and depressing? Am I a glutton for punishment? Do I subconsciously want to fail?

But the day wasn’t over yet. I spent about three hours crying (not just from the spilled milk… although in writing that, I have just realized the irony here, because HELLO, haven’t I heard the saying a million times… “Don’t cry over spilled milk?” Oh… irony… you are a devious bastard.) I was in the kitchen, trying to calm myself down while being a good housewife and making dinner for John, when I heard a loud CRASH and then John yelling “OH NO! COME ON, LEVI! REALLY??” I didn’t even want to go into the living room, but, like I said, I must have a penchant for punishment. I walked into the room, and John informed me that he had left a cup full of milk sitting out that he had forgotten earlier, and Levi had just knocked it over with a pillow that he had been swinging wildly around the room. Oh, and the milk was on a table covered in pens, papers and DVD’s (I’ve been lax with clearing the clutter lately. Sue me). John didn’t have time to clean up the mess because he was rushing to get ready to leave for his second job, so guess who got to clean up the mess for a third time that day?

I saw it clearly for what it was. “Here you go,” God was saying, “I’m helping you change!”

I silently cleaned up the milk. I wiped down about 30 DVD’s, and collected the pens and tried to dry them off. (I’m sure they’ll always smell slightly funky after this.) I threw away most of the papers, and sprayed the table with an antibacterial cleaner. John hovered in the background, randomly throwing out questions as he got his stuff together. “You ok? You’re really quiet…” “Are you sure? I can’t tell when you only nod…” “Ok, I’m leaving now… are you really ok?” Nod. Yes. I’m fine. But thinking: Ok, have a good night, I love you, I appreciate you and the fact that you’re leaving for your second job, …but I need you to leave before I lose it. He did, luckily. And I didn’t lose it. Well, I might have lost some brain function from the extreme deprivation of oxygen, but I didn’t scream. I didn’t hiss anything at Levi. I didn’t even give him a cross look. I just walked into the kitchen, had a minor (silent) stroke, and then walked back into the living room, sat down, turned on Heroes, and thought, On the plus side, that table looks so much better now!

Things I learned while Shopping Today

  1. Be wary of old ladies at Joann Fabrics.

a.       “Oh hello, dearie! What a cute little boy you are! What’s your name? Can you say your name?” …This seems like a normal enough thing for an older lady to gush at my child. I’m used to it, and typically do not mind as long as the admirer doesn’t try to touch Levi. What happened today, however, surpassed the creepiness of patting my child’s head. Levi, not in the mood to talk to strangers, crossed his arms and scowled at the lady who said that to him. She laughed, and I explained that he tends to be shy. Instead of moving on, the woman stood rooted by our cart, completely ignoring me (I’m not even sure she knew I was there, seriously), and continued to talk, LOUDLY, to Levi, like he was simple and would respond if she worked EXTRA hard to get him to talk with her. I started to push the cart to get away from her, and she wandered off a bit in the other direction. Much to my chagrin, Levi turned around and yelled “BYE!” at her back. This DELIGHTED the woman, who whipped around so fast that I wondered if she really was as old as she looked. She RACED back over and proceeded to try to talk to Levi again, who went back to his defensive stance of crossed arms and scowling eyebrows. She finally seemed to take the hint, and I was relieved. I moved over to the fabric section to peruse fabric square bundles, and quickly became immersed in sorting through the different patterns. After about five minutes, however, I heard Levi chuckling, and I looked up to see him peering around the edge of the tall rack I was standing behind. Then I heard quiet whispers, and when I looked, THE WOMAN WAS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE RACK, and she was BENT DOWN so I couldn’t see her over the rack, and was talking to Levi in whispers so that I couldn’t hear! What kind of crazy is that?? I didn’t know, so I immediately took off with Levi and decided to wander around the scrapbook aisles for a bit until the woman disappeared. I stopped to look at a paper pack, and, deciding I didn’t need another paper pack (as I have 30 billion at home), I turned around to SEE THE WOMAN STANDING NEXT TO THE CART, watching Levi… I almost had a heart attack. I said, “Excuse me?” but she wouldn’t even look at me… so I left. I had no idea what to say to someone like that… I’ve been at Walmart and told off people who stand too close to Levi in line, but I had no idea what to say to a normal-looking old lady who was clearly NOT normal. What in the world?

    2. Carts at Walmart are even dirtier than I had previously assumed

a.       I left Joann’s and headed to Walmart because Levi was out of milk, and figured the craziness that is typically abundant at Walmart would take my mind off of that creepy old lady. I was right. Before even getting into the store, I had to drive through the parking lot to find a spot. On the side of the lot, sitting in a row, were a bunch of homeless looking people, who had several carts turned onto their side. One man was sleeping on top of his, and a ratty couple was making out on top of theirs. Another cart was being used as a changing station for a mom who was waiting for the bus. I was so disgusted that I wiped down the cart I used with about 30 wipes before I let Levi near it. From now on, I’m just going to wear disposable latex gloves when I walk into the cesspool that is Walmart.

     3.   You can catch a disease just from picking up a gallon of milk

a.       I suppose this fits under the dirtiness that is inherent to Walmart, as was touched upon in the earlier story of dirty people and their misuse of the carts. I went to Walmart for three things: 2 gallons of milk, Pepsi for John’s lunches, and ranch. I only left with one extra item: eggs. This is not an awesome example of my amazing self control, but a glaring example that shows just how horrifying the store was today; even I could not stand it for longer than necessary. No random shopping for me today! ANYWAY, milk was my last stop. It had been a pretty uneventful trip once inside the store, and all was going well. There was only one woman ahead of me, grabbing a few gallons of milk, so I waited behind her. Thanks to my close proximity, I couldn’t miss when she let loose a gigantic sneeze ALL OVER the rest of the milk gallons. I LITERALLY SAW THE SPIT AND SNOT PARTICLES FLYING in what was clearly attack formation, splattering all over the gallons. I stood there in shock, and waited for her to turn around and see me staring at her in disgust, but she just looked around, bored, before waddling away to go sneeze all over the cheese section. I stood there for a few minutes, and then finally went and grabbed two gallons of the more expensive milk, because it was in a different compartment and I just couldn’t bring myself to pick up a gallon of the snot covered milk. Had I been forced to grab one of the disease carrying gallons, I'm sure that I would not have been able to stop myself from attacking the woman with it and beating her in the head with the germ infested bottle. I could totally see myself, after twisting off the top, pouring the milk all over her and screaming, “HOW DO YOU LIKE IT????”

Sometimes Walmart makes me go a little crazy in the head.

      4.   It doesn't matter how long the line is… I will be doomed forever to pick the one that takes forever

a.       Walmart was super packed, so the lines were super long. I finally found a line in the self checkout that was decently short, so I raced over to it. Only one older guy was ahead of me, and he only had a couple things in his cart. Gloating and patting myself on the back for finding such a good line, I watched as the guy sloooowly tried to scan his first item. After a good five minutes, he gave up, and asked for help. The employee, a girl with dark eyebrows drawn in a huge upside down V above her eyes, came over and joked with the guy for a good ten minutes. I never even saw her help him scan the item, because my eyes were too filled with rage. After she walked away, he managed to scan his next item, and it was time to pay. I started tickling Levi to keep him from getting antsy, but after another five minutes had passed and the guy still hadn’t moved, I looked up. He was standing there, holding his credit card in one hand, and pointing at the credit card machine with a puzzled look. He stood there pointing at it for quite some time, as though the machine would notice his puzzled pointing and print out instructions. I was about to go ask if he wanted help, but he called over the girl again, who sauntered over and proceeded to laugh WAY too loudly (what was even funny about this situation??), and then told him he was supposed to swipe his card. THAT’S what had him confused??

It figured. He probably knew perfectly well how to use that machine before I stepped into that line, and then promptly forgot it the second the wheels of my cart wheeled into his lane. I wonder if I am cursed.

I learned a lot today. I’m not sure it was all happy lessons, but they were lessons nonetheless. I have learned I need to prepare for the store differently than I’ve been going about it. Usually I just pack a diaper bag and make sure my wallet is in it. Now I need to pack mace, a tazer, sanitizer, latex gloves and an instruction manual for the credit card machine. Good to know. Next time I will be prepared…I hope.

Oh, Stereotypes, how embarrassing that I should succumb to thee

Tonight I was thinking over some of the things I had mistakenly thought I would avoid when I became a mother. Some are mindsets, others are patterns of behavior… either way, I can’t believe how WRONG I was…

Stereotype #1:

“My kid is the cutest kid in the world!” OR: A mother’s honest belief that her child is the best looking child, EVER.

This has always greatly annoyed me when hearing another mother spout this. Having been an outside observer to many of those children, I could tell a number of them were not up to par in the looks department, if you know what I mean. I knew that I would not be so blind. If my child looked a bit funny, I would not make such statements of grandeur!

THANK GOODNESS I was gifted with a son who is ridiculously good looking, otherwise this would be pretttty hypocritical. At first, I never brought up his insane good looks to other people, because it was pretty obvious. However, I have different friends who have randomly talked about how THEIR kids were the cutest, which, curiously, was even after they had seen Levi. Denial, obviously. Sometimes I’ve felt bad for them.

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I’m just kidding!! Ok, seriously… my friends do have really cute kids. Which I’m grateful for, because it would be hard to listen to them discuss how cute they think their kids are without my true thoughts showing on my face (or accidentally blurting out something like “Just stop your lies already!! Have you looked at your child lately??”) However… this stereotype is completely accurate, because I have finally reached the point where I am positive that Levi is the cutest little boy I have ever seen. Ever. I don’t expect other people to feel this way, at least… but I wouldn’t blame them if they happened to agree. As a matter of fact, just tonight I was sitting by Levi as he was eating, and I thought, “Oh my gosh! How did I end up with such an ADORABLE kid?? He is gorgeous!!” I find myself being increasingly amazed and awed by his blatantly handsome features. I’m one lucky mom.

However, I’m just going to say this here, I dislike when other moms post statuses that say “My son is the cutest!” Sure, there’s free speech and all that hullabaloo (yeah, I said that), and I’m sure they really do think so… buuut it makes me feel just a TEENSY bit defensive, because, quite frankly, I totally do not agree, and I then have to fight the urge to start a very public fb argument letting them know that they are sadly mistaken. ALL I’m sayin’ is…just be a little bit more accurate, like “My son is the cutest person in the world TO ME.” Not only is that accurate, but it is undisputable.

(Side Note: If you are reading this and thinking, hey, I’ve done that…is she talking about me? Yes. The answer is Yes. Don’t ask me about it. Write your own blog about how you disagree and if I ever come across it, I’ll totally know it’s aimed at me and you will be completely vindicated.)

Stereotype #2:

“I won’t be like THAT mom. I’m going to be a GOOD mom!” 

I realize this covers a broad area. For me, this covers –yelling at your child in public, -giving a toy/dessert to stop a meltdown, -a bedtime after 8pm, -meals that are not completely nutritious, and -spanking out of anger. There’s a LOT more, but to keep this less than 20 pages, I’m going to end the list early.

While I have realized it’s impossible to be a perfect mom (just stop, those of you who just exclaimed out loud “What? Alicia’s not perfect?? Do I have to tear down her shrine now, or does this just mean she’s even more awesome because I can relate to her??”), sometimes it is depressing to look back on the list of things that I was “not going to do as the perfect mom,” and realize that I have done ALL of them, and some of them on a steady basis. It’s humbling, to say the least. (I will clarify that I no longer spank out of anger…That’s an issue that I had to have God’s help to work through… now I’m proud to say I just threaten spanking. It works just as well.) (I may be just kidding about that last part. Maybe.)

I regret past judgments I’ve made on other moms, harshly judging them when I had no idea they were exhausted and could probably use a month’s vacation away from their seemingly innocent child who was really a terror at home. I didn’t realize that you can’t just force a child to eat a nutritious meal…they will eat what they want, in the amount they want (even if it’s just a few bites), and I just have to deal with it. I know there may be someone reading this now thinking that I’m wrong, but that just means you were lucky enough to have a child who likes what you are feeding them. Don’t judge! I have tried EVERYTHING with Levi, even tried to force feed from fear of him starving, and he learned how to throw up on command. So much for my ideas. He’s gradually starting to eat better (he likes broccoli! Hallelujah!)… but it was all on his own timing. It is so HARD having a child as stubborn as me.

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This is quite the experience: Motherhood. It’s not for the prideful, I’ve learned, because it SUCKS constantly finding out how wrong I am about… well, about everything. Some are simple things, like thinking I won’t fall into silly stereotypes like thinking my son is the best looking human toddler on the planet (which, TO ME, he is.) Others are deeper, more personal issues that tend to hurt when I fall short, and bring me face to face with my own weaknesses.

On the up side, I’m learning that I don’t need to be perfect for Levi to turn out alright. He is such an awesome kid, which consistently amazes me, because I sometimes wonder how my missteps and constant failings haven’t turned him into a raging monster. He is so sweet, and POLITE! My kid is POLITE! He says “thank you” and “you’re welcome,” “bless you,” “excuse me,” and he JUST learned “please!” I TAUGHT HIM THAT!! Oh, and listen to this… he even throws away his own dirty diapers…and when he goes to take them from me to throw away, he says “Thank You!!!” HaHA! It cracks me up every time!

I’m pretty sure every mom has different ideas for what they’re going to be like when they’re a mom, and I’m just as sure that many of them are as off track as I was (at least I tell myself that to feel better). Thank goodness it’s OKAY to be wrong about these things! Thank goodness that being wrong doesn’t destroy our children… in fact, what it tends to do is make us stronger parents.

So YAY for being wrong! (That’s the only time you’ll hear ME admit to that, just so you know)

Oh---before I end this, and to prevent possible smiting from God, I’d like to state that I know none of you have shrines of me in your homes. I do not expect you to have them either, no matter how awesome I may or may not be (pshaaaw… not be... yeah right!)

I think that’s it.