There are two little words that when you hear them, you cringe.
When you hear them at the end of the day, you reply, “Just go to bed and sleep it off.”
When you hear them in the middle of the day, you answer, “Just go to bed and sleep it off.”
When you hear them first thing in the morning, you know that your day is off to a bad start.
When you hear them on an early Monday morning, you know exactly how your week is going to shape up… crummy.
If you had heard them from a woman, it would be no big deal.
If you heard them from a child, you would know exactly what to do next.
When you hear them from your husband, early in the morning on a frigidly cold Monday morning, you know that your bad morning is going to lead to a bad day, which is going to lead to a bad week, and hopefully not ruin a weekend.
What are these two words? As if you didn’t know already, but I’ll tell you anyway, in case you were thinking about some other word.
Those two little words?? I’m sick…
Monday, February 20, 2006
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Nature vs. Nurture
I know I didn't teach it to him... and I don't think he learned it at the sitter's... so that must mean that it was just programmed into him at the beginning of time, and I must now fight forever to change it.
Since when did my child figure out that if he has something on his hand, instead of saying, "Eww" like he used to while holding it up to me to clean off, that now it's easier to just wipe it off on his shirt or nearest piece of furniture.
What?? I hope this phase doesn't last long.
Since when did my child figure out that if he has something on his hand, instead of saying, "Eww" like he used to while holding it up to me to clean off, that now it's easier to just wipe it off on his shirt or nearest piece of furniture.
What?? I hope this phase doesn't last long.
Friday, February 10, 2006
The Mom Thing
I never knew how much I loved being a Mom until now.
I also didn't realize how much being a wife and being a mom are different. Being a wife, I worry about my husband and what I can do to be a better wife. Being a mom, everything little man needs is a priority over my own needs. I never did that as a wife, even though I probably should have. Things change when you have kids, don't they?
Tonight at dinner, we were eating a new chicken dish we were trying for the first time, and my husband was trying to cut his into bite size pieces, rather unsuccessfully. I reached over to hold his plate, so that he could cut a piece without the plate sliding around on the table. That was, apparently, the wrong thing to do. He gave me the "I can do it" phrase, and then used his chest to push the plate back onto the table.
Why do men have to be so independent and stubborn? Why can't they let the mommy do the mommy things that are engrained in the mommy head that she feels the need to do? Like help out a one-armed hubby who apparently needs help. And adjust the shirt on the man who struggles to get one arm in and then his head. And cut the steak into pieces for him that he cooked and was looking forward to so very much.
And when the time comes, the mommy needs a little time to herself, because helping out the daddy who wants no help and the little boy who needs every bit of help he can get can be a little tiresome and stressful. Thank God for the weekend, and for best friends that are also mommies and need the Mommy Time Off as well!
I love being a Mom!
I also didn't realize how much being a wife and being a mom are different. Being a wife, I worry about my husband and what I can do to be a better wife. Being a mom, everything little man needs is a priority over my own needs. I never did that as a wife, even though I probably should have. Things change when you have kids, don't they?
Tonight at dinner, we were eating a new chicken dish we were trying for the first time, and my husband was trying to cut his into bite size pieces, rather unsuccessfully. I reached over to hold his plate, so that he could cut a piece without the plate sliding around on the table. That was, apparently, the wrong thing to do. He gave me the "I can do it" phrase, and then used his chest to push the plate back onto the table.
Why do men have to be so independent and stubborn? Why can't they let the mommy do the mommy things that are engrained in the mommy head that she feels the need to do? Like help out a one-armed hubby who apparently needs help. And adjust the shirt on the man who struggles to get one arm in and then his head. And cut the steak into pieces for him that he cooked and was looking forward to so very much.
And when the time comes, the mommy needs a little time to herself, because helping out the daddy who wants no help and the little boy who needs every bit of help he can get can be a little tiresome and stressful. Thank God for the weekend, and for best friends that are also mommies and need the Mommy Time Off as well!
I love being a Mom!
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Me - 0, Monster - 2 and counting
I am losing the battle.
The laundry monster is winning.
This morning, I got in the shower without a clue of what I wanted to wear to school. So, while I was washing my hair, I decided on an outfit, and got out of the shower looking for it. Shirt, check. Shoes, check. Pants? Pants? Where are they?
I checked every hanger in my closet, on my side, and his, I checked the laundry basket in the closet, I looked in the laundry basket that had clean clothes in it, I came out into the laundry room and looked in the dryer, I looked in the washer, I looked in the piles of clothes that have yet to be washed... NO WHERE!
So, I thought about a different pair, and found them in the dirty pile. Outfit number three later, I finally found something comfortable and not too wrinkled, and I wore that to school.
Now if I can just find the matching sock to Little Man's grey sock before the laundry monster strikes again and takes something else I might need on an early school morning.
The laundry monster is winning.
This morning, I got in the shower without a clue of what I wanted to wear to school. So, while I was washing my hair, I decided on an outfit, and got out of the shower looking for it. Shirt, check. Shoes, check. Pants? Pants? Where are they?
I checked every hanger in my closet, on my side, and his, I checked the laundry basket in the closet, I looked in the laundry basket that had clean clothes in it, I came out into the laundry room and looked in the dryer, I looked in the washer, I looked in the piles of clothes that have yet to be washed... NO WHERE!
So, I thought about a different pair, and found them in the dirty pile. Outfit number three later, I finally found something comfortable and not too wrinkled, and I wore that to school.
Now if I can just find the matching sock to Little Man's grey sock before the laundry monster strikes again and takes something else I might need on an early school morning.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Instant Mother of Two
Today I became the mother of two boys. But this time I didn’t have to suffer painfully or gain any weight. Today my loving husband had surgery on his elbow and right hand. He had carpal tunnel in his right hand and needed repair for tennis elbow. So, now I am at home taking care of my child and my husband. But that’s not the funny part.
The funny part was the sequence of the events that occurred at the surgery center. Before surgery, my husband’s demeanor was pretty good. He was excited that he got to “tattoo” his own arm to remind the surgeon which arm he was supposed to be working on. Then the fun started. They started his IV, gave him a little shot, and she told him, “Here’s your margarita!” He started talking, and we were worried that when he woke up from his surgery he would be combative, so we were discussing our options. Then he said, “When am I satosed to spart feeling this stuff?” Except that’s not what he thought he said. And the poor little nurse thought that meant he couldn’t feel anything and asked if he needed more already. HA! That was the least of his worries! Then they wheeled him off and I went into the waiting room to go grade some tests.
An hour and a half later, they called me back to be there with him when he woke up, so that if he did anything combative, at least I’d be a familiar face to help calm him down. Luckily, we didn’t have to worry about that. He woke up, and the first thing he told the anesthesiologist who told him that surgery was already over was “You didn’t even warn me!” I guess that means that they didn’t tell him he was going to sleep. And then he went back to sleep. And then woke up again, and then to sleep again… I got a lot of grading done! Slowly, the awakenings came a little more frequently, and the words started flowing in more understandable attempts. Except for one of them. At one point, I asked if he needed anything, and he told me no, so when I sat back down, he told me to “keep working on your suck-a-doo-doo.” I guess he meant my Sudoku puzzles… too bad I was still grading!
All in all, he’s fine now, but for a little goofiness sometimes, and a real appreciation for a wife that is taking care of him, and a child that is sweet enough to know that Daddy hurts, so he keeps wanting to “kiss it” for Daddy so that it doesn’t hurt anymore.
I love my little family, funny, frail, and full of love.
The funny part was the sequence of the events that occurred at the surgery center. Before surgery, my husband’s demeanor was pretty good. He was excited that he got to “tattoo” his own arm to remind the surgeon which arm he was supposed to be working on. Then the fun started. They started his IV, gave him a little shot, and she told him, “Here’s your margarita!” He started talking, and we were worried that when he woke up from his surgery he would be combative, so we were discussing our options. Then he said, “When am I satosed to spart feeling this stuff?” Except that’s not what he thought he said. And the poor little nurse thought that meant he couldn’t feel anything and asked if he needed more already. HA! That was the least of his worries! Then they wheeled him off and I went into the waiting room to go grade some tests.
An hour and a half later, they called me back to be there with him when he woke up, so that if he did anything combative, at least I’d be a familiar face to help calm him down. Luckily, we didn’t have to worry about that. He woke up, and the first thing he told the anesthesiologist who told him that surgery was already over was “You didn’t even warn me!” I guess that means that they didn’t tell him he was going to sleep. And then he went back to sleep. And then woke up again, and then to sleep again… I got a lot of grading done! Slowly, the awakenings came a little more frequently, and the words started flowing in more understandable attempts. Except for one of them. At one point, I asked if he needed anything, and he told me no, so when I sat back down, he told me to “keep working on your suck-a-doo-doo.” I guess he meant my Sudoku puzzles… too bad I was still grading!
All in all, he’s fine now, but for a little goofiness sometimes, and a real appreciation for a wife that is taking care of him, and a child that is sweet enough to know that Daddy hurts, so he keeps wanting to “kiss it” for Daddy so that it doesn’t hurt anymore.
I love my little family, funny, frail, and full of love.
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