Timeout 4 Mommy

Collect Yourself

Dramatween vs. The Pint-size Preschooler August 20, 2010

Filed under: Kid Tidbits,Mommy Morsels — timeout4mommy @ 9:59 am
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Sounds like a really bad (or really good) Kung Fu movie, right?  Or at least an insanely cool WWF match.  Well, it pretty much is minus the samurai swords or off-the-ropes body slams.  Because in our house you get a timeout for that kind of physical violence.  So the kids resort to verbal abuse.  I would have never dreamed that a 12 year old and a 4 year old could fight as much as my oldest and middle child do.  I always thought that the 8 year age difference would make them oblivious to each other; nothing in common, right?  Wrong.  In fact these two have so much in common that they are constantly at each other’s throats.  Now, I don’t mean that they share long conversations over Team Edward vs. Team Jacob or how cool the new Monster Truck video game is going to be.  Their interests are obviously totally different.  But mentally, they are on even playing ground.  Tweens and preschoolers, I’ve found, only care about themselves.  They are so self-absorbed that nobody else matters.  And, they’re always right.  As anyone who has been in a relationship knows, two rights always equal wrong.  Someone has to back down.  Not happening with these two.  They both cry to try to get their way.  Neither one listens even though their hearing is perfect.  And both of them will argue over who was sitting in a particular spot first until they have no voice left.  I’ve tried to let it go on that long just to obtain some peace and quiet but I just can’t stand the bickering.  So I intercede, preach to them about being kind to each other and then follow it up with a “and if you can’t stop arguing both of you will have your mouths Duck taped shut!”. (This is when I realize I’ve turned into my mother, but that’s an entirely different blog post.) They haven’t always been this way.  They both just entered the same mental state at the same time.  Coincidentally, I entered my mental state shortly after, and it’s not pretty.  I’ve noticed an increase in my need for timeouts and you can often find me sitting on my bed rocking back and forth trying to find my happy place.

The problem could be their age gap.  There is no middle child, say a nice 8 year old that could play referee.  We just have Beeb, the sweet, innocent 9 week old.   Although, I have a feeling that he’s like that baby in The Incredibles, the one that can burst into flames at a moment’s notice as a defense mechanism?  I’ve seen him turn pretty red, I think he’s on the brink of realizing his true powers.  Anyway, he is my refuge; my safe place.  Just yesterday, in order to escape yet another argument over which T.V. show to watch, I retreated to his nursery upstairs with a fully loaded bottle.  And, yes, I let my kids watch T.V., an obscene amount if that’s what it takes to have my house quiet for a bit.  I’m not ashamed.  In fact, I give a big ‘shout out’ to Dora for teaching my kids how to count in both English and Spanish.  But back to the Beeb and our escape.  As I sat there cradling him, whispering apologies about bringing him into such an insane family, I realized that this is why parents baby their babies.  By babies, I mean their last child.  Their final creation.  It’s because they’ve witnessed first hand what that pure, naive little bundle will become.  And they’re sorry, so, so sorry.  And sad.  And they want to hold on to that innocence, tightly, for as long as their restraining arms can hold it.  So that’s what I’m doing, relishing every moment I have with this little being that hasn’t learned how to talk back or roll his eyes at me.

And those moments are what make the tumultuous relationship between Dramatween and The Pint-size Preschooler bearable.  This too shall pass.  And when it does I’ll have two boys that are literally WWF-ing it to work out their problems and a 16 year old girl that doesn’t want to talk to any of us.  This is when I anticipate taking my sabbatical, sorry Jers.  I’ll send you a postcard.


Goodbye Hooptie! August 17, 2010

Filed under: Mommy Morsels — timeout4mommy @ 8:09 pm
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If you have read my About page you have seen that I consider us a one (reliable) car family.  Since my husband “lost” his job, “lost” meaning his former boss just decided to stop paying him, our finances have gone down the proverbial crapper.  One of the casualties was my hubby’s Trailblazer.  We then became a one car family.  Not so bad for some, in fact we’ve done it before.  However, that was back in the day when the love of my life had a sit down job in an office and I could take and pick him up from work and have the car to myself all day.  This time was different.  He is now self-employed, driving all over Southern CA.  He needed our one and only car.  I was left at home, pregnant, with two kids.  No bueno.  This lasted about two months.  Enter, The Hooptie.

This little bucket is a 1999 Ford Escort and has been a total blessing for our family.  Let me just say, it was in running condition when we got it, perfect for around the town errands.  We got it for free (yes, free!) from some friends of the family who were going to give it to charity.  We said, “We’ve got your charity right here!”.  I drove this little guy (yes, he’s a boy car) with pride, as if I was driving a brand new (enter cool car of your choice here).  Remember, I had previously spent two months with no transportation, I was now a liberated woman!  This lasted until Jers decided I shouldn’t be driving this “unsafe” car in my 8 month pregnant condition, surrendered my Tahoe back to me, and started driving the little red machine himself.  To L.A.  To Palos Verdes.  To Manhattan Beach.  From the O.C.  Hmmmm….probably not the best of ideas.  We single-handedly turned that reliable automobile into the Hooptie it is today.  First the A.C. went out.  Then the engine started making these horrid knocking, clacking sounds.  Sounds that left the “mechanic” of the family scratching his head.  All he could say was “yeah, it’s not good.”  The Hooptie has been benched ever since.  It has been two weeks and counting that we have become a one car family again and I’ll be honest, it sucks.  Now I’ve got three kids, it’s summer, and we’re stuck at home.  And I like being home!  It’s the fact that I can’t go anywhere if I wanted to that drives me crazy.

So back to The Hooptie.  In lieu of letting it sit in our driveway, slowly leaking oil, we decided to call Auto Buyer.  There are a ton of cash for cars places out there, but we liked this one because they advertise that they’ll take your “mechanically challenged” vehicle, which we thought was a very clever way of saying they’ll pick up your piece o’ s#@t beater.  And that they did, leaving us $100 which we’ll now give to our church.  The way we look at it, God blessed us with this car just when we needed it most (meaning before I went postal on my entire family) and we should give it right back to Him as a thank you.

Goodbye Hooptie, you served us and served us well.  You’ll be missed right up until we replace you with another used, and hopefully more reliable, family car.  RIP.


Snot Junkie – A Mommy Morsel August 6, 2010

Filed under: Mommy Morsels — timeout4mommy @ 2:08 pm
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The nasal syringe…or snot sucker as I like to call it.  Does anyone but me get a rush from a successful extraction?  I realized, after a noteworthy removal at the 5am feeding this morning, that I get very excited when this little sucker works!  For you sports fans, it’s like the excitement of a touchdown or a home run.  When I see that clear baby nostril I want to scream GOOOOAAAAL!  Except it’s 5am and the rest of the house is silently sleeping.  So instead I do a little happy dance and coo to Beeb about “how good that must have felt” and “isn’t he so happy now?!”.  I was so euphoric after I put him back in bed that I almost couldn’t go back to sleep myself….almost.  And then this afternoon I started jonesing for my next fix and I realized, I’m a snot junkie!  I’d like to think that I get the high from helping the helpless, assisting this little creature that has absolutely no control over his extremities, no way of blowing his own perfect little nose.  But then, I get the same rush from plucking a big boog out of Deet all the while telling him not to pick his nose because it’s gross.

What’s that expression, do as I say not as I do?