crazedparent

Mind your manners...

I was at the park yesterday with my boys when I briefly was introduced to another mom. The typical two second "hi, hello, nice to meet you," and then you go about your bidness. Nol, though, is a mooch. Even though he had just eaten his lunch and then some, he proceeded to wander over to this woman with one of his friends as he saw her pull out some food for her toddler. Her boy/girl/I'm not sure was probably about two. As I watch Mooch start to head to her I quickly went over to him and said it's time to go...and hello, you just ate you heathen. But he insisted on mooching since his friend was doing the same thing. Peer pressure for preschoolers.

The mom asks if they want a taste of whatever she was offering her kid and puts the teeny tiniest dab of it on her finger. One for Mooch. And then I thought I heard, "Say thank you." Nolan did indeed say thank you but for some reason I thought the mom told him to say it before the food was off her finger. Noooooo. Maybe she was saying it to her own son, I thought. And then I saw her give the friend a teeny tiny piece of food and she said it  - "Say thank you." Before the food was off her finger. He said it and so fine. Her voice was commanding.

It bothered me that she did that to my son. First, he clearly said "Yes PLEASE" when he was offered food. He knows something abotu manners, and knows how to say THANK YOU thankyouverymuch. He would have shown you his awesome skills if you had let him do it on his own. Little kids like to do things on their own, dontcha know. Second, if you want to remind him to use his manners, you might want to wait until AFTER he has the food in his hand or he is not chewing his cud. And finally, how about you let his MOM handle it, since I was standing, oh, RIGHT BEHIND HIM.

Okay. So yeah, I know, it takes a village, blah blah. And perhaps she was just doing what she does to her own kid. But seriously, be the village when Mom or Dad isn't right in your grill, okay? Otherwise you risk irritating the parent who has already worked her arse off teaching her kid about manners (see point one from above).

Those thoughts in your head...

The New York Times Magazine had an essay by Yannick Murphy last weekend called "Home and Away." She starts out her story with a feeling familiar to most moms - how something so mundane as going to work with your husband seems so exciting and liberating when you've been at home with the kids for daaaaaaaaaaaaays. Their adventure goes not as planned and turns out to be a sad one as her hubby, a vet, has to put down an injured horse. When she returns home, her kids ask her what took them so long. She writes:

"They were looking into my eyes, and I knew my eyes were telling them how much I loved them and had missed them and wasn't that really the look of someone who had been gone for days? When they were babies, I was in the habit of not speaking aloud to them, I just talked to them in my head and looked into their eyes. And that's what I did now."

Half the time I'm talking to my boys in my head I'm wondering what they hell they are doing. The other half of the time I'm capturing a *click* moment. Staring into their eyes and saying to myself, "You are the most wondeful, most beautiful, most edible, most sweet baby and I am so blessed you are mine. How could I possibly be this lucky."

Q. smiles and wiggles. But Nolan, I'll stare at him, capturing his sweetness, and he'll suddenly touch my face or lean in to give me a nose kiss. He's only four. And he can read my mind.

Tuggin' at the heartstrings...

One of the things I love about blogging is that the rapid-fire exposure to new writers. I say "new" as in new to me. Irene Nam just joined as a staffer for Blogging Baby and I recently started reading her blog, MOMster. She's currently dealing with her two sick boys and if anyone knows the pain of illin' kids, it's me. But wow, can this gal capture the feeling of watching your little one so seriously under the weather. After witnessing her son fall asleep with his head on the toilet after a vomiting bout, she writes:

"my heart aches. my eyes cry. my soul begs.
but every second I am bashed by my love for my son."

I found myself shaking my head in agreement, YES! YES! A thousand times YES! The thing is, I feel this way ALL THE TIME. Well, okay, not when my boys are crying or tantruming in public. But I could watch Nol playing at the park or Q. making kissy sounds and I'm completely overcome with such intense feelings of love. MOMster does too, I'm know. But she's right, it's when they are at their saddest, most heart-breaking moments that you are reminded of the "true-ness" of parenting.

Feliz dia de amor...

Just so we're clear, I do think Valentine's Day is a Hallmark-inspired cluster. Noah Drake was so astounded by my declaration to not buy me anything that he nearly went into a tailspin. Why? Because I used to be a fanatic about Valentine's Day. Then came the astute realization that I have 365 days a year to say "Te amo" to those I love. Why just today? If I'm going big, it's going to be for a birthday. Not February 14th. But still, this is just the opinion of a crazedparent. Yes, I've made Dr. Drake and Nolan sweet cookies, and will continue to shower little Q. with kisses. But that's about it.

I'm still a lover, not a fighter. So feliz dia de amor a todos mis amigos. Un beso grande de la chica de crazedparent.

*Mwah*

Made up memories...

MommyGuilt has a fun little game going on. Christina's asking readers to post completely fictional memories of a "moment shared" with MommyGuilt. I offered my own having to do with Rick Springfield (could you have guessed otherwise?). Go visit her and leave your own "memory."

Noah Drake says something funny...

Noah Drake is probably going to get in my grill for sharing this but it's so typically MALE that I couldn't resist.( Dr. Drake, I do love you so.)

It's about 3am and the Mighty Q. starts his regularly scheduled whine and cry. I wait a few minutes to see if he'll fuss himself back to sleep. No luck, he continues to cry and is working himself up to "I'm not KIDDING! Where the F*%K are you MOM." Because he could give a rat's ass about dad at 3am. Noah Drake suddenly rouses from his slumber. And with such a tone of annoyance in his voice from being so rudely awakened, he asks: "What is that noise?"

Um, hello. That noise IS YOUR SON.

I can laugh about it...now.

I got issues...

...with spam in my comments and people who post comments with bogus email addresses.We're all adults (well, most of us). If you don't have the moxy to leave your email address so I can respond directly to you, then just don't post. Simple enough. Then I don't have to waste my time deleting your nasti-gram or spam about cellphones/babyclothes/gardening gear/whatever.

And if you do have what it takes, yeah baby. Just register with Typepad so you can post your comment the legit way. It's quick and painless.

Muchisimas gracias.

Pregnant belly kisses...

No, I'm not pregnant, and I'm not interested at this stage in having another wee babe. But I'd almost consider it if I had a guarantee that Bono would kiss my pregnant belly. Yum.

Slash/mom...

Since I quit my former day job a few months back, I've been having trouble with this whole labeling thing that comes with being home with your kids. I stay at home, but I also work from home. I work from home alot - basically any moment the kids are asleep. And then I do everything else associated with being a stay at home mom, except cleaning bathrooms. I leave that for Noah Drake (even doctors have to clean bathrooms).

If I were a true "stay at home" mom, let's face it - it's still work: taking care of your kids and running a household is a shitload of chaos.

I get irritated when people need to classify moms - and dads for that matter - into one bucket. You're either one or the other. How could you possibly be more? You're either a stay at home mom/dad, a work from home mom/dad, a stay at work mom/dad. But what if you're like me - an insane mix of all of the above. Just because I work from home it doesn't mean I have a nanny taking care of my kids. I just work around their nap schedules. And late at night. I have employers, I have clients. I still have a foot in the door in the corporate realm. And I know I'm not the only mom who's doing this.

I've decided to come up with my own label for what I am: a slash/mom. It covers stay at home/work from home/stay at work MOM. Everything is a slash. It's the only way you can capture what you do.

But in the end it doesn't really matter what's in between the slashes. They all add up to the same thing.

I'm a mom...and then some.

The Ricky report...

So nothing to do with parenting other than this being a mom's night out...

Last weekend I went on my Ricky Martin escapade with my hottie sister. Our seats were so close to Ricky that we could literally see the beads of sweat dripping from his buff bod. But did I get to meet him? First, some scene setting...

When we arrived at the venue we took our seats and did the jaw drop when we saw that we could jump on stage if we felt so inclined (we didn't.) About ten minutes before the show started, we heard some woman shouting "WOOOOOOOOO RICKY!!!" It was this large and in charge gal with her four pals. I by large, I should really say obese. These women were very overweight. And where should they be sitting? On either side of me and my sister. The largest of the women sat down next to me and I kid you not, the impact of her ass hitting the chair pushed me off mine and onto my sister's chair. This woman was now sitting on half of my chair. My sister finally said, "You need to tell her to get off your chair or protect your seat." And so, as soon as this woman got up for a minute, I moved myself to the edge of my chair. My sister buttressed me so that when big momma sat down again, I wouldn't move. It worked, but then we nearly puked when big momma pulled out a white lace thong to throw on stage. Oh. My. God.

Anywho. The concert started, we were in Latin heaven dancing our little culos away. Ricky did a little serious number:

Then a little capoeira (wiping the drool off my face):

 

      

 

   And up-close-and-personal drum work for "Jaleo":

But he never made contact with the front rows. He was all about the back of the auditorium. I think it had to do with the big gals and the married couples in the front row. We started to get a little bummed that he wouldn't look down, but then at the encore, when he belted out "Vuelve" and we were all singing along, he looked at me and my sister - he smiled...and winked. No lie. We both saw it. We both looked at each other in a state of shock. 

After the show we decided to be completely adolescent and chase him as he went to his tour bus:

He saw us and waved, then drove off in a black Caddy Escalade. And dammit, he left us behind!!!

Ricky Martin. No backstage, but a direct smile AND WINK.

Hot.

And yes, the formatting is all wonky. I've tried to fix it a jizillion times but STUPID TYPEPAD won't let it look the way I format it.