Time For a Time-Out, Mom!

I am blogging on the bathroom floor while watching my daughter take a bath. Why? Because I'm learning that sometimes (more times than not) my child has a perfectly good reason for acting out.

I had punishment on my mind as I went to pick up my 15 month old from behind the side table after telling her "don't touch!" about a bazillion times. I was seeing red . . .  but the red took on a distinct shade of brown as I lifted her and my hand made a "squish" sound into her poop soaked pants. Y U U U U C K!!!! My route towards the time-out spot took a detour to the tub as I looked around in frantic futility for someone else - anyone else - who might deal with this for me. But alas, my husband is at a class for graduate school and my 4 nannies have the night off (what was I thinking?)

My goal was to teach my daughter something, but I learned the lesson instead. Darn you, kid! You're always forcing me to acknowledge how far I fall short of the Mom of The Year award . . . . but then your hugs and kisses make me feel like I've already won it.

Now to dry off this lil' booger and get her in some cozy jammies. 

*sigh*

Livin' and learnin' - the life of a mom.

Becoming the Mother I Swore I'd Never Be

Alternate Title: Confessions of an Imperfect Mother . . . Part 1 of many

The TV is honestly an awesome babysitter and at times my savior.

The other day at a restaurant, a waitress had to bring my wandering child to me while I paid the bill. *face palm*

Sometimes, I put her to bed with a bottle. I just do extra brushing on her teeth the next day. Ok, no, I don't.

I let her run wild in our little post office and tear the place apart as I tried to ship 3 packages. I figured it was easier to just pay for what she'd damaged than to spend all my energy frivolously trying to chase her and put things back on shelves. There was a moment when she walked up to me with someone else's keys. I ran out and chased a woman to her car, just to find out that they were not hers. I just endured the judgmental stairs. I don't even care anymore.

When I'm really frustrated at her and trying to get her to mind me, I grit my teeth at her. I hate that.

I always frowned upon other parents when their children yelled "no" at them all the time. I made it a goal to rarely use that word with my child to try and keep her from forming that habit. So, I now have a child that just yells "stop" at me. *sigh* Apparently, I've ruined this kid. I'll try again with the next one.

While at a street fair, we were standing in a driveway listening to some musicians. Exhausted by chasing after my child who had decided to be ornery that day, I was allowing her to pick up snack puffs that she had dropped on the dirty ground and eat them. Concerned onlookers decided to inform me of the appalling thing my child was doing. I told them she was improving her immune system and allowed them to stare at us with sour looks on their faces. Again, I just don't care.

To be continued . . . . .

9/11/2001 Remembered

I was in my freshman year at Harding University. As I was getting ready for class, I got a call from my mom telling me to turn on my TV. I watched them replaying the plane's crash into the first tower and really couldn't understand what was happening. I don't think any of us could. How can we comprehend our safe American world crumbling before our eyes? For my generation, this just didn't seem possible. We had grown up in a safe and strong America. This went against every confidence and reliance we had in our country - in our world. At first I believed it just to be a terrible mistake on a pilot's part or a horrible mechanical malfunction.
In a daze, I finished getting ready and walked across campus to the music building. I really don't remember many details. I think I was in such disbelief that nothing seemed real. I believe my Music Theory professor tried to start class, just out of shear loss for what else to do. None of us were into it. We went out into the hallway where another professor had rolled out a TV. We sat on the floor around it and watched the plane hit the second tower. "Wait. Was that another plane? Was that another building?" I then realized this was not a mistake. Fear, confusion, compassion, disbelief - how can you explain all of the emotions you feel at a moment like that?
I went back to my dorm. (I don't believe many of us tried to go to any more classes that day.) Then they began running footage of the people covered in smoke and dust running in terror, crying, in hysterics. Was this my country? These images resembled pictures I had seen in National Geographic of war-time in other countries. How could this be here?
The pentagon. The next news was that the Pentagon had been hit. This wasn't just a business building in the middle of NY. This was a vital building to our government. This should be one of the most well guarded buildings in our country! It was on fire with a huge hole in the side.
I believe at this point I may have completely checked out. What could I do? I was helpless. I could do nothing to stop this. I couldn't even process what was happening. I believe I popped in one of my favorite movies (probably 10 Things I Hate About You) just to escape from the horror of it all.
For the next several weeks, there were rumors around campus that we could be a target - because we had the largest auditorium in the area. Of course, this idea was ridiculous, but our fear was real.
When I went home for Thanksgiving, SNL had an amazing tribute with many artists singing "I'm Proud To Be An American." This is not like me, but I remember standing with tears streaming down my face, singing along with them.

I wanted to get down my random thoughts and memories of that horrible day, so I would have them for years to come. It is not a day I like to dwell on. I didn't watch any of the specials today. I didn't discuss the events with anyone. I didn't even read anyone else's accounts of 9/11/01. But, of course, it is something I will never forget. When asked, I want to have my memories as best I can.