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.


Driveway Timeout August 9, 2010

Filed under: Timeouts — timeout4mommy @ 7:19 pm
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The first time I saw this commercial for the Toyota Sienna I was cracking up.  I had to include this in my blog.  So I went to You Tube and started reading the comments and can’t believe how many people think that, although she’s hot, this mom is a BAD MOM!  Really?  Because I TOTALLY identify with her!  If I had a pimped out mini van I would for sure be in it to get away from the kids for a timeout!  Just a few months ago I was very pregnant with Beeb and had to get out of the house.  I was beat.  I was frustrated.  I needed a drink.  But because of the little being inside that was sucking the life force from me, that was a no-go.  So I retreated to my Tahoe in the driveway in order to escape.  I ran from the house without the keys and prayed for the doors to be unlocked.  They were, thank God, or I may have internally combusted.  I threw myself into the passenger seat, because it was closer to me and being pregnant anything I could do to avoid walking any further was a bonus, and slammed the door.  Quiet.  A driveway timeout.  I don’t mind saying I cried a little, ok, a lot, and then did some deep breathing exercises.  These not only helped to calm me down but I figured it couldn’t hurt to practice for the impending birth of the third and final little monster that would be sure to send me into a similar frenzy someday.  But then it got hot…really hot.  I toyed with the idea of sweating off some of those pounds I had gained by consuming entirely too much ice cream but in the end I had to open the door.

My point here is that I get it.  I know that mommy in the commercial.  I AM that mommy in the commercial, on occasion.  And anyone who doesn’t understand her certainly doesn’t have children.  So take your timeout when and where you can…just remember to bring the keys.


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?