Your Crazy Mom

Giving Mother Nature the Bird

Sometimes I hate being a woman. This week has been one of those times. I’m sure that my boyfriend and my children are very glad that I am, in fact, a bonafide female, but personally I am giving Mother Nature the BIRD. If I didn’t know better – and THANK GOD I know better – [...]

Buried Treasure

This is my boy. He loves pirates. Before my daughter became a grown-up Kindergartner it wasn’t uncommon to find me at the supermarket with Jack Sparrow in one hand and Sleeping Beauty in the other. Already, she wouldn’t be caught dead in such “baby dress up stuff” – at least not in public where anyone [...]

Mystery Meat Mondays

My daughter is the only kid in her class that brings her lunch to school. Apparently, I’m the only parent in the class who remembers how frightening the elementary school cafeteria is. I distinctly remember mushy bubbles in the hamburger patties, chicken nuggets that could be bounced off of the table, and pizza that was, [...]

Lessons in Math, Reading & Butt Wiping

Since I gave up the working world, I have struggled to keep myself busy. A few months ago, I accepted an invitation from my daughter’s teacher to come into the classroom a couple of days a week and practice reading with the kids. While I love the time that I spend there, I have found [...]

Falling Off the Wagon

This week, I’ve spent enough time in my cobweb infested attic that it should be considered cruel and unusual punishment. My sister’s birthday was yesterday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY SISTER) and for her big day, I created a scrapbook. While I buck the idea that I am any form of a Martha-Stewartish-scrapbooking-mom, I must confess how much fun I [...]

The Drama Before The Dawn

February 16th, 2010

eL.

It’s Family Week at Your Crazy Mom and I invited one of my favorite writers to guest blog about her life as a Crazy Mom. Everyone, meet my dear friend Ashley. Make her feel welcome and be sure to bookmark her blog Because I Can.

“Your daughter”.

Anytime my husband refers to one of our children in this way, I can be assured that the next thought won’t be palatable.

“She left me a note by the computer. Apparently she has an essay due TODAY and the printer is out of ink. Damn, does she realize that I now have to go to Wal-Mart at 5:00 a.m!?!” At this point I drag out of bed and attempt to read the hastily scribbled note by the keyboard thru half-closed eyes. In a flash I’m in the shower and my wonderful husband/father to my babies is out the door. He was probably gone about 10 minutes when I realized that our toilet was running….and running. Well, he was at Wal-Mart….I called him.

“Honey, the toilet is running. You may want to get one of those ball and flapper thingys while you are at Wally World.” I can’t really type what he said next, so use your imagination here: “#%$#&(#%#*&($^@*$$!”. “Well, YOU flushed it last, so don’t blame me! Here, I’ll send you a picture. Love you!” I sent him a picture, cause I didn’t know what the hell I was looking at. Don’t judge.

Ok, so in the meantime, my seven year old is planning on wearing her pajamas to school as it is Pajama Day. I know this because on her agenda in her delightfully uneven handwriting is PJ DAY. “Baby, you are SURE that today is Pajama Day? You know I don’t want you to be the only child in your pjs today”. “Yes ma’am, cause they had to cancel it last Friday.” (She always says ma’am when she wants something.) Needless to say, when I put her on the bus, there were NO OTHER children in their pajamas. Sigh.

I finally get dressed at this point, and apply my face for the day. Hubby makes it home from the Wally World and when the door opens and shuts for the second time, I hear an exclamation from him. “Your daughter!!” “What now?” “She got the bus driver to turn around and come back so she could get her Game Boy. Apparently it’s Game Day as well as Pajama Day.” Damn, that kid is good, I honestly don’t know where she gets it from. Exhausted from dealing with the youngest, I wake the teenager up and inform her that her dad has gone to great lengths before dawn to ensure that her essay is turned in on time. She mumbles her thanks and disappears into their bathroom. Her grades are awesome, so I refrain from throwing something at the closed door.

Dressed, check, makeup on, check, hair fixed, check, our toilet is flushed…uh oh.

I’m no plumber. I take the lid off the tank and dip my arm in the ice cold water to grab the orange flapper thingy. Of course as I do this, my arm hits the hose that is obviously attached to something important and I am taking my second shower of the day, this time in toilet water. Sweet.

When is going back to bed and starting over the obvious solution? I asked this of my husband and he gave me an unsympathetic look. Ok, so this is part of the joy of parenting, and all before 7:00 a.m. It’s a job we’re actually happy to do, and the payoff is better than any tax exemption. While those kids make me want to chew the tips of my fingers off at times, for the most part they are worth every aggravation. God love ‘em.

At least it got better after I left the house. My husband fixed the toilet; the baby made it home with the Game Boy and informed us that some of the other kids had on their pjs too. Big girl got her essay turned in on time and preserved her 4.0 average. The day actually didn’t suck and I came home with a six-pack of Blue Moon beer. Hubby gave me a look as I carried it in the house. “Do we really need $8.00 beer?” he asked. My reply?

$%@#^%*^%(&*%”>“$%@#^%*^%(&*%#!!!

I love my family.

February 15th, 2010

eL.

Early Valentine’s morning, I awoke to the movement of my covers and a warm body sliding in next to mine. “I’m sleepy, Mama,” my four year old son whispered as he rested his head on my pillow and sandwiched his stuffed puppy between us. I pulled the comforter up to his chin and kissed his forehead before closing my eyes and drifting back to sleep. Moments like this make me love being a single mom, in the midst of all the moments when I hate it.

Being a single parent isn’t easy. Without a husband, it is my job to wear all of the hats of parenting – at once. More than just working, cooking and cleaning it is my sole responsibility to teach, play, discipline, protect, nurture and guide my children. Thankfully, I have a lot of supportive grandparents, aunts & uncles and friends that have helped me in the process of “winging it” and making this parenting thing happen. I know I am fortunate to have them and take my hat off to all of the parents out there that truly go it alone.

The bright side of being a single mom is that I don’t have to share any of their attention. At four AM there is no other place that my son wants to be than right by my side. My little girl curls up under my blanket to watch Olympic figure skating with just me. They both decorate Valentine’s cards and sugar cookies for Mama. I get all of the hugs, kisses and I love you’s in our house and that is just fine with me.

We are a tight little unit, my tiny family of three. Someday we will grow, but for now I am reminding myself how special my life really is.

February 12th, 2010

eL.

Yesterday, I allowed my daughter to ride the school bus home for the very first time. She has been begging me since her first day of Kindergarten and against my every instinct as a mother, I relented. My boyfriend thinks I’m being overprotective and I’m not sure why. I only had two meetings with her teacher, a consultation with a teacher-friend, and just one… OK, two meetings with the administration office at the school. Her bus arrives in front of our house just after 3pm which is actually sooner than when we usually get home from the car rider line. At 2pm I started checking out of the window – just in case. I was a nervous wreck all afternoon.

Maybe I am a little overprotective, but I don’t care. She’s my baby girl. Too many parents aren’t protective enough over their children today! Unfortunately, we don’t live in Mayberry anymore. This world is a scary place. If you don’t believe me, go to the sex offender registry and put in your address. www.familywatchdog.us At my last house, we had one living RIGHT NEXT DOOR. We moved.

Maybe my biggest reason for being so protective is remembering what kind of kid I was. If there was trouble to be had, I would find my way to the middle of it. I wasn’t necessarily causing it, but was no doubt best friends with the instigators. I loved the little trouble makers with good reason; I wanted to be a positive influence on them. Nine months of rehab and counseling later, I saw the error of my ways. Oh… I don’t want my kids to make the same mistakes that I did.

So now, beginning with riding the bus in Kindergarten I have realized what kind of parent I am going to be. I only thought my mother was out of control for not letting me spend the night with families she had never met. I’m going to make my mother look like a mad woman.

So how did the first day of bus riding go? I’ll let the picture speak for itself:

Note that there are two little boys and THAT’S ALL. Like a true PTA mom, I was clicking away with the camera to capture my daughter stepping proudly off the bus for the first time when, to my horror, I realized she wasn’t there. Out loud, I shouted, “And this is why you shouldn’t let six year olds ride the bus!” I dialed the school and took off through the neighborhood with my son in my wake.

I met her coming up our street with a little girl she met on the bus. “Mom! Lauren lives in our neighborhood and I wanted to see where she lives! Can I go to her house to play???”

And so it begins…

Thankfully, she is one piece. She doesn’t smell like cigarettes. She doesn’t appear to be high or drunk and she hasn’t yet dropped the F-Bomb. I hope she enjoyed her first and last ride on the school bus as there isn’t enough Xanax in the world.

February 11th, 2010

eL.

Recently, I decided to finally loosen the purse strings and buy my son his first “big boy bed.” Not only were his feet beginning to get stuck in the footboard slats, but I also believe he was the only four year old still sleeping in a crib. Quickly, my son noticed that his twin size bed was nearly as big as his sister’s queen and much smaller than the monster King in my room.

Will had been watching TV in my bedroom when the realization of the bed-size injustice had obviously occurred to him. “Mom, how come you get the biggest bed in the house?” he demanded as he stomped into the kitchen with his hands thrust angrily in the hair.

I was a bit puzzled. “Well, I guess that’s because I’m the biggest person in the house.”

He cut his eyes at me and pointed his finger at my nose. “But I am the man of the house and someday I will be bigger than you.”

It’s true; in the future he will tower over me with a six foot frame and most likely outweigh me by a hundred pounds. That day is approaching rapidly and against my will. However today, in one fell swoop he was dangling by his ankle at eye level with the Wo-Man of the house who proceeded to tickle him into submission. “Maybe someday, but not today Little Man!” I shamelessly taunted.

There’s always going to be a pecking order around this house and little does he know that Mama, no matter what his size, is ALWAYS going to be at the top of the food chain.

February 10th, 2010

eL.

Yesterday, I admitted that I was mortified when I found out that my firstborn was going to be a girl. I wanted a boy. Somehow, I had convinced myself that raising a son would far easier than a daughter. Boys aren’t emotional and hormonal. They don’t spend hours in the bathroom. They don’t give a crap about Barbie or Disney Princesses. They can be entertained for days by a frog and a bucket full of mud. Boys are easy.

Four years ago, God blessed me with a son, Will, and though it took a while for me to realize it, just this week I discovered something very important: I was wrong. Wrong. WRONG.

Boys are, in fact, the OPPOSITE of easy. Boys are absolute trouble.

I should’ve realized it when we moved into this house. The previous owners had a cat and had installed a “cat door” going in and out of the laundry room. By the end of day two in our new home, we had to remove the door leaving a gaping hole in the paneling. Why? Will’s head kept getting stuck.

I have had to teach my son things that I never had to teach my daughter. Important life lessons that are not found in any parenting book I’ve read. Lessons like:

“You are not allowed to hide from your sister in the dryer!”
“The foot rest on the recliner is NOT a catapult!”
“Let go! You cannot ride up on the garage door handle!”
“Do not stand up on the bathtub to pee in the potty!”

When I was a kid, I heard horror stories about the terror that my brother was when he was a child. He set the woods behind our house on fire – twice. He kept a black widow’s egg sack in a jar with holes poked in the top in his bedroom. When the babies hatched… they were smaller than the holes. He had pet eels who were magicians at getting out of their tanks. I would come home from school to find them dried up on the carpet. I know my mother pretty well and I’m surprised he made it out of childhood alive. Sadly, I believe this is just foreshadowing of what is to come in my life. *insert scary JAWS theme music here*

Giving Mother Nature the Bird

Buried Treasure

Mystery Meat Mondays

Lessons in Math, Reading & Butt Wiping

Falling Off the Wagon

The Drama Before The Dawn

My Special Valentines

The Carnal Bus

The Man of the House

Parenting Boys is EZ

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