Yes, during the most severe times in my life when I was bedridden for months, my body moulded into the mattress, not only did I not even know how to be a mother, but I didn't care. Strength and what little energy I had, was poured into staying alive. But during these worst of times, my children, the older ones aware of my illness, the younger one suspecting, were never very far from my side.
If your kids see you jostling to get the best shot of the most mundane moments of life, just so that you can post a picture of it on your Instagram account, they'll follow suit. If you post inappropriate images or comments on social media, the will be seen by your children, guaranteed. Limit and moderate your own social media activity.
One day, I pressed play on the PVR and went about my bidness, Max on the couch pumped for some Turtle Power. A few minutes later, I heard this moaning and groaning coming from the television, with some bow-chicka-wow music in the background. What the. I ran to the TV and saw a commercial for a chat line, The Night Exchange.
As the nicotine leached out of his system, the emotional outbursts started. Think of the terrible twos except with a terrible two-year-old that could bench press you. He was like someone suffering from Tourettes Syndrome. He would just started swearing and freaking out for no reason. No, I don't want to do the dishes. No, I don't want to go to bed. No. No. No.
I desperately searched the surroundings but she had vanished. 'Someone took my child' was all I said when I dialled 911. Rescue crews were already curbside, when my neighbour saw a bright pink jacket floating in the water, he found my daughter, pulled her out of a pond in the nearby golf course our house backs onto.
I am all for moms who don't take themselves too seriously -- who don't try too hard to be perfect and who accept themselves for who they are, warts and all. I am all for mothers who are 'people' first. Who love who they are and are proud to chase their dreams. Because sometimes we mamas just get lost in this parenting gig, and we wake up 25 years later and wonder who we are.
Nobody ever tells you about lice. Seriously, though, there should be a handbook that they give you when your child goes into any kind of childcare or school facility warning you of the perils you will face as a parent. Then, at least, you will be fully educated and may actually decide that the person homeschooling their child on your street may just actually have the right idea. Kids are gross.
My kids are the worst eaters. Really. Some people say this, and mean that their kids don't eat raw sushi, or whole wheat pasta, or offal. That's not what I mean. I mean that in my house, bacon is a food group. I mean that my kids don't eat pasta, period. I mean that they only accept pepperoni pizza from one delivery joint. It's serious.
It's already begun! School has started, so kids are getting sick. We might as well face the inevitable: at some point or other, a virus will strike at the least convenient moment. The question is, how will we handle it? Here are some suggestions for opportunities to bond with your little ones on the days you are 'stuck' at home.
There is yet another chain message going around the Facebook ranks, this time involving moms. While I understand, and even support, what I feel the author's intended message is, I don't think that a poorly-written and typo-laden chain letter can sum up motherhood. So I'm forced to ask myself -- yet again -- why Facebook is so stupid.
Well-meaning cashiers at the grocery store ask, "so, you have the day off of work today?" as they check out my purchases. I feel temporarily guilty that my husband makes enough money to give me this "leisure time." Just because some women work in stores or offices all day, and then cram in housework between the hours of 7-10 p.m., should I be doing that, too?
I realized something today as I silently watched my husband tickled our daughter, her infectious giggles urging him to do more of the same. And as I watched, I knew for sure what I'd never known before. I don't love my daughter like he does. In fact, I don't love any of our four children in the same ways he does.
Having a child can be overwhelming, in every possible way. Especially if the child is your first born. You see, kids don't come with a manual. You have to mostly trust your gut, take some advice when needed and sometimes rely on the Internet for a huge chunk of information. I used the internet to Google "How to bathe a three-day-old" because I didn't have much help after my child was born.
Just in case you missed the first trillion times I mentioned it: giving birth was really hard. Now I am about to give birth again. This time, to a book. In some ways, giving birth to a book is harder than giving birth to a baby. Everyone loves your human baby because it's an innocent party in all of this. But many will hate your paper baby, because you made it, and you suck.
A recent article in The Atlantic suggested a more "realistic" approach for women juggling motherhood and career: Have just one child. But I would hate for a woman to think that having just one child is the key to successfully juggling motherhood and career. The real threat to what we want in life is TIME.
Sometimes I think I must be a really nasty, boring, bee-otch to be around. They're growing up fast, I just want my kids to want to spend time with me. I want them to be excited when they know we have an entire day together. I want them to think I'm the best thing since sliced bread, but I think those times are starting to disappear.