The Joys of Fall

It's been a while since my last post. I've been wiping booger noses and going to doctors and hospitals. The 4 year old has bronchitis, which they wanted to make sure wasn't pneumonia, so we had to make a trip to the hospital for a chest x-ray. It wasn't pneumonia, but we're on a nebulizer to clear his wheezing. Woo Hoo! Good times! Of course, when one gets sick, so goes the other. Baby boy has something, but I'm not sure it's as bad. He's got a runny booger nose and started coughing the past few days but so far it's nowhere near as terrible as what his big brother has. I just don't remember being this sick when I was younger. Who ever heard of a nebulizer?? We were sick for a couple of days and then right back to school and playing outside. I'm not sure what the difference is these days. Maybe less time out in the fresh air? Too much antibiotic use? I don't really know. I'm just glad there are drugs to treat what these poor kids have because they seem to get really sick.

New York State of Mind

I often wonder what it would be like to raise children in the city. I grew up in Jersey City, a stones throw from NYC, and fantasize about living there now. I picture us visiting museums and parks, riding the subway, Central Park trips, and it just sounds so fantastic. My husband would NEVER live in or near NYC, especially since 9/11. He wants to be as far away from the major urban areas as possible, mostly for safety reasons. That and his need for space - lots of space - between him and his neighbors. Definitely not a city-dweller. I understand, but there's that innate part of me that longs for the city, that needs it to survive.

The suburbs are, well, the suburbs. Honestly they are what you see made fun of in movies with moms lined up in their SUVs dropping off their kids at school dressed in their tennis outfits. Seriously, this is what happens when I bring my 4 year old to preschool in the morning. And I can't stand it. It's just not me. I don't play tennis or drive an SUV. I hate SUVs as a matter of fact. Hubby has one and I hate driving it. Only if absolutely necessary will I get behind that wheel. Then there's all that space between me and my neighbors. Give me a brownstone where I know who lives next door, and that means I know their first names and actually speak with them more than once a month. Space - who needs all that space. To me, it just means more to maintain and keep clean. We presently live in a 4 bedroom, 2 1/2 bath with a finished basement and a sizeable yard with an inground pool. Who wants to keep that clean on a daily basis? Yes, the kids need room to play, but they prefer the beach or the park anyway. This is a fundamental difference (one anyway) between me and my husband. He wants a bigger house with more space, inside and out. More space means more stuff. I'd like to go smaller and have less stuff. At 41 years of age, I doubt I'll change. I think the saying is true: You can take the girl out of the city, but you can't take the city out of the girl. Maybe someday I'll get back there. But for now, it's SUV central.

What Makes You Happy?

Here's what I want to know - how many people are really happy? Happy, in general, with their lives, their day to day existence. I want to know because I'm not happy. I know I should be, but I'm not. This has been a problem of mine (I think it's a problem) since I was young. I never knew what I wanted to do. I was never satisfied with what I was doing or who I was dating. I always wanted to do something else or be somewhere else. Now, one husband and two children later, I have those same feelings. I don't know where it came from or why I feel it, but here it is. If you ask me at any point during the course of a day if I was happy at that minute, undoubtedly the answer would be "no." It's a constant battle with the kids, it's hard work to make a marriage work and then there's nothing that I feel proud of that I'm accomplishing . . . probably because I'm not accomplishing anything.

I saw Wynonna Judd on Oprah this afternoon and she wanted some validation or recognition that she was able to clean out a closet while her sister was off saving people from genital mutilation in the Congo. This is how I feel. There are moms out there working, doing meaningful volunteer work, or just contributing to society in some way. Here I am saying "I made it to the consignment store today and dropped off a bag full of clothes. Can I hear a woot-woot?" Seriously. That's what I've accomplished today. That and a load of laundry. Am I happy? No.

Photo Friday

I call him Destructo. My Dad calls him The Tornado. My Mom calls him Terminator. You get the point, right?

Run, Baby, Run

It's gotten to the point where I need to run 15-month old baby boy into the ground to ensure a good night's sleep. He's always been a pretty good sleeper since he was born, especially in comparison to the ever-awake 4 year old. That child just recently started sleeping through night. Did I mention he's four? That's a long time with not a lot of sleep . . . and I mean for me as the parent, never mind him as the child. Anyway, the little one appears to be going through some phase of waking up and just wanting me to hold him. Yes, it's cute and sweet and I should treasure every minute because he won't want anything to do with me soon enough. But I'm tired. Did I mention the 4-year old just started sleeping through the night recently? It gets exhausting after the third hour of trying to put the baby down and he just pops right back up. I'm not a young momma with endless energy. This mature momma needs her sleep. So I've taken to wearing that baby out, which in turn wears me out. We hit the beach or the park or the yard, or all three, every day. That child runs and runs and runs wherever he goes. He's constantly on the move. You'd figure with all the running and fresh air, he'd be wiped out and sleep "like a baby." Well, sometimes yes. He'll sleep a full 12 hours - pure bliss as far as I'm concerned. And then there are those nights when he just wants a little more momma.

The Joy of Family

Does anyone else ever get tired of feeling guilty? I'm not sure how to discipline my children without feeling guilt. I'm not sure how to be angry at my husband without feeling guilt. Can't we just say and do what we're feeling when we're feeling it? Wouldn't that be living in the moment? Being authentic? I realize that somewhere along the way something criminal could occur. I could stab my husband because that's what I happened to feel like doing at the time. I see the danger there, for him and for me. But that would be considered an extreme example, right?

For whatever millionth thing your husband has done to bring you to the brink, what's wrong with simply saying, "I really don't feel like being married to you right now because I'm so pissed off." Or how about giving your child a whack on the behind for that wise-ass comment he just made while in line at the supermarket. Or letting your toddler cry his eyes out while you attempt to write this blog. Why must the guilt immediately ensue? I know we're supposed to control ourselves and think before we speak and think before we act. I love my family, but I'm just so tired of taking it all. Maybe I'm just tired, period. It's hard enough being married. Being married with children is a whole other ball of wax.

Parenting: No Check

Ever feel like a complete failure as a mother? I don't even recognize this person that I've become. I have no patience. I'm cranky all the time. I'm yelling and making threats all day. I'm carrying screaming children to time out. I'm exhausted. All of this can't be good for the kids. I never thought I'd be one of "those" moms who can't keep it together and yell at her kids all the time. Why does it seem like they figure out exactly which buttons to push to get you going? Aren't their brains too little to be that smart? I know I'm the adult and I should know better but, damn, they're good at getting me angry. My parents like to say "You majored in psychology. Use reverse psychology on them." Really? Is it just that simple? You come deal with my children 24 hours per day, 7 days per week and you use reverse psychology on them when you're trying to get out the door and they're refusing to put on their shoes. Whoever said being a parent wasn't easy knew exactly what they were talking about.

Boobs: Check!

I'm proud to say I went for my baseline mammogram last night. Yay me! I'm 41 years old and have several specialists I need to see this year. I need a mammo, skin cancer screening, and colonoscopy. I started with the boobs. Most men start there anyway, so why shouldn't I?

It was quick and virtually painless. I wasn't nervous going in. I was actually indifferent. I figure it's not root canal or child birth, how bad can it really be?? I imagine it's probably a lot easier for bigger breasted women as well. It's kind of uncomfortable trying to smoosh what little boob I have between 2 plates. Just when I thought it wouldn't get any tighter, the tech tightened her up just a bit more. There were a total of 4 compressions and I was done. It was literally minutes. I'll take a few minutes of uncomfortable to detect something that could potentially end my life.

Since I went in the evening, the doctor was already gone for the day. I was told the doctor would read the results in the morning. This office operates under the "no new is good news" theory. If I didn't hear anything from them today, everything was fine. It's about 5pm and I haven't had a phone call yet so I'm assuming all's well in the boob department. I even walked away with a parting gift: the cutest pen with a little pink ribbon on it for breast cancer awareness. One unpleasant visit down, 2 more to go . . .