It Can’t Always Be About Me

In my previous post, I had vented a little bit. I had a challenging day with Boo-Boo and I was feeling overwhelmed. In one of my comments, I lamented how mothers were supposed to fulfill all these other roles well and without complaint. But,  I decided to look at my partner and think about how he must feel about his role…or roles.

Let’s face it. We can be hard on our men. We ask that they be strong and masculine. And yet, they must be be sensitive and in tune with our needs. But, I think we sometimes forget that we can’t communicate with men the same way we communicate with women. Yes, it’s cliche. But, it’s true.

My hubby has hinted to me that he sometimes feels that he will never measure up to his role as a parent. After all, he didn’t carry him for nine months. He didn’t give birth. And, he didn’t nourish him for over a year. The bond between mother and child is so primal and instinctive. It’s easy to forget that some men may feel insecure. I see how slighted he feels when Boo-Boo “chooses” me over him.

Men have to wear different hats too. I expect my hubby to be a husband, father, provider, lover, confidant, partner, chauffeur, and friend. Yet, I don’t know if he feels the same pressure as I do in being able to fulfill other roles. Are our expectations of women greater?

I have no answers. Nor do I expect to find one anytime soon.

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It Kinda Sucks Now….

Ever had one of those moments in your parenting career (why can’t I call it a career?) where you ask yourself, “What the f**k have I gotten myself into?”.

Well, now that Boo-Boo is your typical hyperactive, moody, cunning, resourceful, and sneaky toddler, watching him is an all-consuming chore activity.

I miss those days when he was basically immobile. Child-proofing was just a matter of surrounding him with pillows. Now, he runs maniacally throughout the house. Day in, day out. Taking him to the park to let off steam does nothing. He. Doesn’t. Stop. Ever.

Make sure that you have nothing at a height he can reach. Easier said than done. Children are geniuses. They will find a way. Quickly they figure out that a chair, box, or Fisher Price car garage can be easily dragged over and used as a footstool. They’re like civil engineers. Crazy.

Have you ever tried to reason with a two-year old? It’s like compromising with a meth-addicted Tasmanian Devil. I swear he puts things in his mouth and dares me to try to get it from him.

Those of you who have more than one child are thinking the same thing. PATHETIC! She wants to have another and yet she can’t handle this one kid.

It’s not that. Although this past Mother’s Day, all I wanted was to be left alone and sleep in. I used to want dinner and flowers. What happened?

I do cherish the moments when he looks at me and smiles. I almost tear up when I watch him sleep. And, I marvel at how fast he’s growing up.

But, if I think that it’s difficult now, how will I cope when he starts talking back to me? What will I do when he deliberately disobeys me? How will I handle his anger?

It kills me when I see other people take parenting so nonchalantly. I bristle when I tell people that I stepped down from a career to focus on motherhood. How is raising a human being inferior to being a lawyer?

Again I ask, why can’t I call parenting a career? It takes time, resources, education, and intelligence to be a parent. Not everyone can do it. Not everyone should.

Mind you, once you’ve chosen this path, you can’t exactly leave it. You’re in it for the long haul.

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Too True


A person who has stopped growing at both ends and is now growing in the middle.

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Not Quite….

I’ve blogged before about how my Boo-Boo had decided that he no longer felt the need to be confined by a cage crib. Instead of telling me, “Mama, no more crib!” or something along those lines, he figured that he was Spiderman and climbed out. Of course, he’s now climbing on everything. The little guy has no fear. But, I digress.

So, it was time for a bed. We had bought our crib specifically because it could be converted into a toddler bed. I just had to find the damn instructions.

Being a resourceful and practical parent (ha!), I had stored the extra parts in the trundle drawer underneath for future use. But, when I pulled out everything, the instructions needed to convert it into a bed were not there.


All I had was a single sheet of paper telling me what parts I was supposed to have. Clearly, I was missing something.

So, I told asked  my husband to  look up our particular crib online. No dice. Mind you, I didn’t actually see him perform the search. He may have lied just so he could go back to gaming.

Eventually, my husband decided that he would try to “MacGyver” a bed for the little bugger. Upon taking the damn apart, he discovered the magical instructions printed underneath the friggin’  mattress.

Duh! How could I have missed them? I only changed Boo-Boo’s sheets for two years!

Anyhoo, hubby turned the crib into a bed in no time at all. So, Boo-Boo is now a “big boy” in  a “big boy” bed.


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Things That Have Been Bugging Me Lately

Soooo, if you’re caught cheating on your spouse, you can say that you are a sex addict and go into rehab. It’s not really your fault because you have a problem and need help. Thank you David Duchovny, Tiger Woods, and Jesse James.  I was unaware of such an affliction.

Let me backtrack. Addiction is debilitating and destructive. I’m sure there are people who are addicted to sex like drugs and alcohol. However, I do question the sincerity, timing, and motives of the individuals mentioned above. When there are millions of dollars involved, you would just about say anything to deflect the blame off yourself. It almost brings the legitimacy of sexual addiction into question.

Just ‘fess up boys! You cheated because you’re lying, immature, sneaky bastards!

By the way, I can’t believe Tiger wouldn’t think to put a password on his phone. Hello? A cry for help or just plain arrogance?


And, another thing. Who was voting to keep Kate Gosselin on “Dancing With The Stars”? Seriously! Granted, there has to be a train wreck every season (i.e. Macy Gray, Cloris Leachman). But, it was getting ridiculous. Thank God she’s off the the show finally!

It was bad enough that she insisted that she was like “other moms”. Oh yeah. I get $7000 hair extensions all the freakin’ time. But, does she also have to go on about “having to work harder” because she’s a single mom? Um, you’re qualified as a registered nurse. Get off my television and go do that instead.

Who wants to bet that we’ll see her kids on some sort of “reality-based” show on MTV in about 15 years time? Or maybe “Celebrity Rehab”?

Pardon my cynicism. But, I’m OVER it!

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That Kid Is Gonna Be the Death Of Me

Boo-Boo just turned two. He has now become an expert climber. He will climb out of his crib when he wakes up from his nap and proceed to make a wonderful mess for me to clean up. So, we now have to convert his crib to a bed and either lock down everything or take all the stuff out of his room.

I love my mom’s suggestion.

Just put a net over his crib.

Really? As I get older, I’m starting to realize that my mother is certifiably insane. Joy.

Anyhoo, he has also discovered that if he can’t reach something, he can always pull a chair or table over and climb onto it.

You would think that eons of evolution would have ingrained some “Danger! Danger!” instinct into that little noggin of his. But, noooooooo! He has to make  me run after him,  re-arrange the whole house, and give me a heart attack every time I hear a thump come from his room.

Now, it’s not as if we have hazardous materials or dangerous objects just lying around all willy-nilly. But, kids are geniuses. They always find a way to get into something they have no business touching. Child-proofing?  My ass. It doesn’t exist.

I suppose I could look at the bright side of things. He’s showing his independence, his strength, and his problem-solving skills.

That’s right. I can rationalize anything.

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What? Children Playing? Hmmmm….

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