Monday, May 24, 2010
Who taught her that?!
I was coming out of the shower yesterday morning and Maggie was waiting for me. Daddy had gotten her up while I was in there. I haven't really felt the need to be too modest in front of her yet, but maybe I should start. She looked at me, smiled, and said, "Mama big boobs!" Then went on to explain that she had boobs too and lifted her shirt up.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Technology
I think we can all agree that our two year-olds are more proficient on the computer than most 62 year-olds. That particular difference between myself as a toddler and my daughter as a toddler is really not all that unexpected. Bet you never thought about this one though... my kid has no idea what a commercial is. Not only does she typically only watch PBS and Disney Playhouse shows, which do not have commercials, but everything she watches is on the DVR in our family room. So on the odd Tuesday night when she's bouncing around on mommy's bed, watching whatever nonsense is on Cartoon Network, and a car commercial interrupts her hypnosis, she insists that I "Fix the TV Mama!" "TV Broken!"
Screwed Up My Kid a Little Bit The Other Day
Have you ever had a moment that should have been a meaningless little blip, but upon further review becomes something life changing? I've had a few.
Like the time about six years ago when I walked out the front door of my apartment and did a double take. What I thought was a black garbage back lifted it's little head and stared at me. It was a lost dog, in the city of Chicago, that had managed to find it's way past multiple busy streets to my front door. I took him inside and eventually found the poor little guy's very appreciative elderly owner. She donated $50 in my name to an animal shelter. Nice lady.
Or the time when I was a little girl and my parents had friends over for dinner. I don't have any idea who they were, occasions such as this were rare in our house at the time, but I do know they had brought a kid with them. We were having ice cream for dessert and I was dishing it out for everyone. When I gave the kid his bowl I asked him if I had given him enough. His mom snatched the bowl away from me and said, "Oh my goodness, that's way too much!" I was soooo embarrassed. This is a pretty stupid moment to remember, but to this day I can't eat more than a "small" portion of any ice cream treat.
Alright - so getting to the point (finally). The other day it was nap time and Maggie and I were getting ready to read books on the twin bed in her room. She plopped down next to me and pushed her elbow into my boob to steady herself. I yelled, "Ow!" and shoved her arm off my throbbing swollen-pregnant-lady-boob, and may have accidentally scratched her cheek with my fingernail as I did so (I'm honestly not sure, there was never a mark). She looked at me and her face fell. Her eyes, oh god those eyes! I don't even know how to explain it, maybe heartbroken, or demoralized? I know! She looked at me like I was a superhero and someone had just ripped off my mask to reveal that I was actually Hitler underneath.
She started crying and saying, "No Mama!" over and over again and scampered off the bed to stand by the door. She kept crying, "No Mama!" and would not let me anywhere near her, no matter how my times I told her I was sorry and tried to reach for her.
She's two years old and mighty resilient, so of course she got over it as soon as the words "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" were uttered, but I don't think I'm ever going to forget this one. It made me think of all those kids that get spanked and what they must be feeling. And spanking is one thing, what about all the kids that are abused. If just one pained outburst from me can break something in my perfect little girl, even if for just a few moments, is it really any wonder why there are so many damaged people in this world?
Like the time about six years ago when I walked out the front door of my apartment and did a double take. What I thought was a black garbage back lifted it's little head and stared at me. It was a lost dog, in the city of Chicago, that had managed to find it's way past multiple busy streets to my front door. I took him inside and eventually found the poor little guy's very appreciative elderly owner. She donated $50 in my name to an animal shelter. Nice lady.
Or the time when I was a little girl and my parents had friends over for dinner. I don't have any idea who they were, occasions such as this were rare in our house at the time, but I do know they had brought a kid with them. We were having ice cream for dessert and I was dishing it out for everyone. When I gave the kid his bowl I asked him if I had given him enough. His mom snatched the bowl away from me and said, "Oh my goodness, that's way too much!" I was soooo embarrassed. This is a pretty stupid moment to remember, but to this day I can't eat more than a "small" portion of any ice cream treat.
Alright - so getting to the point (finally). The other day it was nap time and Maggie and I were getting ready to read books on the twin bed in her room. She plopped down next to me and pushed her elbow into my boob to steady herself. I yelled, "Ow!" and shoved her arm off my throbbing swollen-pregnant-lady-boob, and may have accidentally scratched her cheek with my fingernail as I did so (I'm honestly not sure, there was never a mark). She looked at me and her face fell. Her eyes, oh god those eyes! I don't even know how to explain it, maybe heartbroken, or demoralized? I know! She looked at me like I was a superhero and someone had just ripped off my mask to reveal that I was actually Hitler underneath.
She started crying and saying, "No Mama!" over and over again and scampered off the bed to stand by the door. She kept crying, "No Mama!" and would not let me anywhere near her, no matter how my times I told her I was sorry and tried to reach for her.
She's two years old and mighty resilient, so of course she got over it as soon as the words "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" were uttered, but I don't think I'm ever going to forget this one. It made me think of all those kids that get spanked and what they must be feeling. And spanking is one thing, what about all the kids that are abused. If just one pained outburst from me can break something in my perfect little girl, even if for just a few moments, is it really any wonder why there are so many damaged people in this world?
Thursday, May 13, 2010
A Mother's Kiss
Everyone uses home remedies. Some use herbs or things from the garden to heal, others use methods passed down from their mothers and grandmothers. I use kisses. Bumped your head? Here let me kiss it. Skinned your knee? Mama will fix it with a kiss. Pinched your finger in the door? Kiss, kiss, kiss! This remedy works 99% of the time for 99% of common toddler boo-boos. So of course today I come up against an injury I just can't fix so easily.
Maggie comes waddling up to me with her pajama pants hiked up to her chest complaining that "Mama, my hoo-haa hurt!" Well, I'd imagine it does with the camel-toe she had going on with those jammies. "MAMA! KISS IT! Hoo-haa owie!!!"
Ohhhhhhh crap. Try as I might I could not make a two-year-old understand why Mama could not kiss away this particular owwie. So I distracted her with candy. I'm such a good mom.
Maggie comes waddling up to me with her pajama pants hiked up to her chest complaining that "Mama, my hoo-haa hurt!" Well, I'd imagine it does with the camel-toe she had going on with those jammies. "MAMA! KISS IT! Hoo-haa owie!!!"
Ohhhhhhh crap. Try as I might I could not make a two-year-old understand why Mama could not kiss away this particular owwie. So I distracted her with candy. I'm such a good mom.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
My Body Hates Me
I am never intentionally getting pregnant again. Never ever. I forgot how much these last two months suck, forgot that it got worse. Seriously, for all the time and money spent by scientists trying to find a way for women who have trouble getting pregnant to procreate, I think just as much time and money should be spent trying to find a way for pregnancy not to suck so much. If nothing else, someone please, please, PLEASE work out the heartburn thing! Oh, and the bending over... or rather the inability to bend over. If we could fix those two things the world would be a much happier place.
I mean really, men like to complain an awful lot about women nagging, whining, having high expectations, getting fat, getting old, etc, etc, etc. But do you know how much crap we have to put up with that you men will never have to deal with? Everyone likes to make a big deal about the pain of childbirth being the one thing men will never fully understand. Well, to be honest, neither will I (hopefully) because I intend to be so doped up on my epidural that it's the least of my worries.
I can think of a lot of other things a man will never fully understand. I don't think enough is said about the emotional pain associated with not being able to tie your shoe, or the physical pain of getting kicked in the hip (from the inside) so hard it makes a little bit of pee come out. Or how about craving a Pop Tart so bad that you actually eat a Pop Tart and then are not only riddled with guilt for eating sugared cardboard but are also riddled with pain as heartburn flares through your chest so bad you want to cry. Jesus Christ, it's only a Pop Tart, why am I crying! And how is it that maternity pants can be too big and too tight AT THE SAME TIME! ARGGGGHHH!
Ten more weeks...
I mean really, men like to complain an awful lot about women nagging, whining, having high expectations, getting fat, getting old, etc, etc, etc. But do you know how much crap we have to put up with that you men will never have to deal with? Everyone likes to make a big deal about the pain of childbirth being the one thing men will never fully understand. Well, to be honest, neither will I (hopefully) because I intend to be so doped up on my epidural that it's the least of my worries.
I can think of a lot of other things a man will never fully understand. I don't think enough is said about the emotional pain associated with not being able to tie your shoe, or the physical pain of getting kicked in the hip (from the inside) so hard it makes a little bit of pee come out. Or how about craving a Pop Tart so bad that you actually eat a Pop Tart and then are not only riddled with guilt for eating sugared cardboard but are also riddled with pain as heartburn flares through your chest so bad you want to cry. Jesus Christ, it's only a Pop Tart, why am I crying! And how is it that maternity pants can be too big and too tight AT THE SAME TIME! ARGGGGHHH!
Ten more weeks...
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