The Great Manipulator and his trusty sidekick, Demanding.
Once upon a time I gave my dad a sign that says, “I’d like to understand where you’re coming from, but I can’t get my head that far up my ass.” A truly genius and existential concept.
Blogging is pretty fantastic because it’s a simple way for me to allow my internal narrator to actually be heard. Some people find my thoughts funny ( you get me, I get you, we are ONE), other people find my thoughts disturbing ( to whom I say FAAACK off), but for me, gosh, its kinda liberating. It helps me grow as a human being, because I am able to admit things to myself, like not being patient, having a cruel sense of humor, accepting that I am not the world’s best mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend…but hey, I’m by no means the worst either. And its OKAY. I’m okay with it. I like to explore ideas of how my parenting techniques will affect my children, and honestly, I hope I do a good job. I hope they are happy. “Success is when your kids grow up, they still want to hang out with you.”- Founder of Kinkos ( remember Kinkos? before they were bought out by FedEx? wow, that seems so long ago!) I digress. Back to the topic….
I find myself wondering just how much of me is going into my children’s personalities and how much is just all them. My internal narrator, whom we will refer to as “Rita,” likes to think of my children as super heroes. Their challenges for the day are all so daunting and intense no matter how simple it seems to me. Rita regularly fills in the captions for my son’s thoughts if he were a super hero in a comic book.
” He tastes the air, testing the wind for the perfect opportunity to swoop in and capture the Mandarin Orange gem from atop Counter Mountain. He must move quickly, as evil dark Lord MOMMY approaches. Should he be seized and trapped, he’ll fight to the death rather than face the perils of the crib and the dreaded torture known only as naptime…”
Actually, if he were a super hero, he would be The Great Manipulator. Again, wondering who he’s picking these skills up from, and is it a good thing he has super powers of manipulation as a two-year-old? Will he dial-in the skill as he ages? Am I going to buy him a flashy sports car when he’s 16 and not even realize I’ve been totally conned? Here is what I’m talking about. He’ll say something ( mind you his vocab isn’t extensive, he’s two for christ’s sake) such as, “drive the car.” But I can’t quite make out what he’s saying. He keeps mumbling it, and I keep guessing until he says it just clear enough, and I repeat it, “oh, drive the car!” and he says crystal clear and with unrefined enthusiasm, ” OKAY!” Like I was totally the one who suggested the activity in the first damn place.
Of course, the enthusiasm of an excited and painfully-cute toddler is impossible crush, so what do I do, I take him to the car to pretend drive and I hit my head against the window because any sane person who isn’t high as a fucking kite and has any amount of grey matter in their skull will be bored sitting with a little kid in a car for hours as he turns on and off the radio, blasts your ears out, opens the windows, shuts the windows, turns on the blinker…again…and again…and again. Have I thoroughly painted a picture for you? So as much as I didn’t have it in the days plan to take him to the car for two hours, he totally manipulated me into doing it by working his magic. It’s really an amazing spectacle to behold.
My daughter, well, her super powers would be making her DEMANDS known. God knows, she gets what she wants. Rita thinks her captions would be this (and we really have no need to mix it up for the forseeable future): “Hello, can you not hear me over here? Have I not explicitly told you time and time again I am to be fed at exactly 5 past the hour, not a second more? Umm, diaper? Hello?! There is one drop of piss in it and I can’t be bothered with it. Change it immediately and cuddle with me. Oh! and I like it when you do the silly faces. Make more of those. Chop chop or so help me, I will scream until I’m purple and you will RUE THE DAY. RUE…THE….DAY.”
haha. god, I love ‘em.
Teasing is Loving…okay?! fool.
Fascinating trick I learned today; if your kid is pigeon-toed, put his shoes on the wrong foot and it will straighten him out in a month (obviously not a trick for 16-year-olds). So instead of Julian running with a slight pigeon toe, he’ll be running with backwards shoes and strangers will whisper amongst themselves that I am a terrible mother, “who doesn’t even put her kids shoes on right.” To which I will respond, ” Bitch, I’m straightening him out, and tell your husband to stop trying to call me.”
I think I’m a slightly mean-hearted person. Because honestly, the things I find most humorous are a little on the cruel side. Take for example the way I interact with my son, who is exploring new ways of expressing himself. Lately he’s been doing what I like to call, “THE RAY CHARLES.” He closes his eyes and sways his head side to side with a huge, toothy grin. Aside from laughing at him ( laughing AT him, not with him) I am also telling him to stop because its one of those really dorky things that could get him picked on if he were to keep it up in say, junior high school. Or it would get him picked on in our house because, damn, its dorky. See that? Is that not totally mean of me? So mean. Two is not too early to not be an annoying little b. Okaaaay?! I buy him t-shirts that say, ” I shit bigger than you.” Instead of, ” I’m a cutie,” or “My Mommy Wuvs Me.” fuck that. If he’s going to survive and thrive in our house, he needs me, his number ONE, to start him off properly.
I really think I have to blame my family for my behavior. I grew up with seven young aunts and four uncles AND a big brother. A good time was making fun of each other. To tease was to love. And you better be good at it or you will get owned and you will cry in the corner by yourself and then you will cry harder once you’ve been made fun of for crying in the corner. So I guess you could say I’m initiating my son by being a little cruel with my humor. Perhaps in some way, I’m hoping it will instill a sense of resilience and quick wit, so that HE CAN do “THE RAY CHARLES,” and if anyone were to give him shit about it he could instantly point out the disproportionate size of their ears and send them crying in a corner. He would then follow-up by laughing at them crying in the corner and thus, continuing the cycle and shutting the bastards down PHO GOOD, son. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want him to be a bully. And it’s especially important he not be a bully because he is already physically HUGE. So the last thing I want is for him to crush a person’s soul before crushing their little sculls. But he should be armed in a way that will make him less of a target because nobody wants to fuck with that guy. This will help him to differentiate himself as an adult too. Instead of just being disgustingly handsome and smart, he will also be funny…perhaps with dark humor but still humorous none the less which is infinitely more important. Looks fade, smarts are important to a point (you know what ‘know-it-alls’ don’t know? How fucking ANNOYING they are), but humor is forever fun! So I am giving him the gift that keeps giving. In college he will have the hunnies lined-up and he will think to himself for a fraction of a second…”Thanks Ma.” Which is all a parent can ever hope for. Not that I am saying my dream is for him to be some kind of man-whore using the talents I’ve embedded for evil. Just because he has the hunnies lined-up doesn’t mean he has to go down the line trying them all on. I would be perfectly content should he go the route of his parents and find his soul-mate to laugh with at fifteen, but its good to have options.
Bring on the wonder years.
I’d like to think of myself as an incredibly patient person, but I’m pretty sure I’m NOT. Its taken me almost 4 years to grow out my hair from a pixie cut, and that’s not because my hair grows slowly, it’s because I run out of patience and chop it off, right when I’m making progress. I paint and do other artsy things with lightening speed, not because i am THAT good, it’s because I am impatient and want to see the finished product already. I am willing to experience severe discomfort in the process to feel satisfied by swift end-results.
So I shouldnt be terribly surprised that I am impatient with my kids. I want them to grow up quickly so I can have real conversations with them and take them places, like the zoo, and enjoy watching the animals with them rather than peeling them off the ground that they’d rather lick than step on. You hear all the time, ” They grow up too fast..” and yeah, I get that, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to fast forward a tiny bit of the rough and/or boring stuff. BLASPHEMY, I know. How dare I, as a mother, say my kids are at a boring or tiresome stage, but I’m just being honest with myself. Doesn’t make me love them any less. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t fart rainbows. I also don’t like wiping asses, or enjoy the feeling of dreading a trip to the beach (THE BEACH), because, let’s face it…sand + diaper creme= one screaming kid. I guess I’m just not big on the baby stage. I don’t have a nursery set up, for either of my kids, which is something “baby-lovers” are really big on. But it’s not because I don’t care, I’m just really practical. I figure, once I get to know my kids, as little people, WE can decide what they want in their room and I’m not shoving, say, The Little Mermaid down my daughters throat because it’s what I think is cute (if she chose that, I would MORE than encourage it). Maybe she’d want ballerina stuff instead or even race cars for all I know. I really want to encourage them to have a sense of self that isn’t overly swayed by my interests. I am ready to roll my sleeves up, and mural entire walls! But I want to know what they like first. Honestly, I envision myself being the best mom when my kids are in, late elementary through high school and beyond. I’m stoked for pre-teens, which is unusual considering that’s a tough age and parents are at odds with their kids.
Babies are cute and all, but…they are just a lot of work and not really much fun. Not to say I don’t enjoy anything about my babies at the stages they are currently in, I’m just saying I have a preference for slightly older kids, given my natural lack of patience and lack of desire to do “baby-eske” things.
I want to chase them at the beach and build sand-castles. I want to hear their stories about school and friends and watch movies together. I want to document my son catching his first wave with his dad. That to me, is the good stuff. I am not too excited or emotional about a first haircut or writing in the baby book ( I really need to get on that though). I’m sure there will be plenty of amazing and glorious moments before then, and I don’t want to miss anything, but I cant help but look forward to whats ahead. my kids growing up doesn’t scare me, or make me emotional. I’m stoked about it! Bring it!!!
Pregnancy: a blessing, a miracle…that Sucks.
I know there are millions of women out there who truly enjoy the process of building a person in their womb, and let me say that I am truly grateful for the opportunity to do so….but let me also say…Pregnancy SUCKS. I mean, what the heck is good about it? I can’t say I enjoy gaining weight by the week, or squeezing myself into maternity pants that, in no way, shape or form, flatter my ever-expanding ass. Know the feeling of having to really pee first thing in the morning? How about experiencing it all DAY! like sleeping on your back? Too bad. Like eating tuna fish sandwiches? Too bad. A cold glass of wine after a long day? Nope. The baby kicking is cute until your organs become a punching bag and the super amazing hyper sensitive sense of smell is perfect in a rose garden, but terrible during a lunch trip to Milpitas, when the local dump has had a good soaking of warm sunshine. A compliment of “you don’t look pregnant in the face,” never feels as good as was intended. Why do I want to eat so much lemon, but absolutely can’t stand the basic taste of water? this is definitely my last time being pregnant, I wish it was April already.






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