Category Archives: Parenthood

As Fast As She Wants

When G was writing her letter to Santa, I asked her if she wanted a new bike.
“You’ve grown so much, you should ask Santa for a bigger bike!” She looked up at me and said “But Mommy, I don’t even know how to ride my little bike without training wheels yet. I’ll ask Santa for a new bike when I learn how to do that!”

I was overcome with guilt.

I taught both of her brothers to ride sans training wheels when they were just 4 years old. It’s not that I haven’t tried to teach her- I have. But teaching G how to ride a bike was a completely different experience. I told myself “She’s just not ready.” The truth was, I lost patience and gave up.

I promised myself that I would teach her how to ride her bike after Christmas.

On Tuesday afternoon, I was inside the house, cleaning up the kitchen. My phone rang– it was Tony. “Come outside, your daughter is learning how to ride her bike without her training wheels.”

I grabbed my camera and ran outside.

I saw my beautiful little girl, in all of her princess glory, sitting on her princess pink bike with the biggest smile on her princess face.

“I’m not scared to learn anymore, Mommy!” She said. “Aren’t you proud of me?”

I watched as she pedaled and wobbled from side to side while screaming “hold me, Daddy! I don’t want to fall!” I watched as my husband ran alongside of her, holding her bike with his hand because he didn’t want her to fall.

I watched as my husband let go of her bike, but stayed close by. I watched as my daughter pedaled all by herself, without realizing she was riding her bike without being held up. I watched as she realized it and as she screamed with joy. “I’M DOING IT ALL BY MYSELF! WEEEEE!”

I watched as my husband ran behind her, letting go at times, holding her tightly at times. And I started to cry, because I was proud of my daughter, but also because I was witnessing what being a parent is all about right before my eyes. Learning when to let go, when to hold them tight and always being there to help them up when they fall.

Two days ago, my daughter couldn’t ride her bike without training wheels. Today, she can ride as fast as she wants.

Looks like she’ll be getting that bigger bike very soon.

This is What Happens When You Procrastinate.

I tend to wait until the last minute (sometimes, literally the last minute!) to do things. So, it wasn’t really a surprise to anyone that I was wrapping teacher’s gifts 10 minutes before we had to leave this morning.
I bought candles and picture frames for G’s teachers. (Which is kind of a lazy gift. But- and this is going to shock you–I waited until the last minute to buy the gifts and all I could think of while wondering aimlessly through Target late last night was “candles and picture frames!”) I picked up the candles so I could get them all wrapped up. The lid one one of the candles wasn’t on correctly, so I pushed down to get it to snap into place. It didn’t work. So, I pushed again, this time with just a little more pressure. Still didn’t work. Pushed again, same result. Now, I was kind of pissed because ONLY 4 MINUTES UNTIL WE HAVE TO LEAVE. So, I pushed down (angrily) on the lid with all of my mighty (and anger.)
If you are a person with any common sense, you’re probably thinking “not a good idea!” And you would be right because all of a sudden, I heard a pop and next thing you know, there was glass everywhere.
And also, blood. Lots of blood because I sliced the shit out of my finger and also my palm.
I ran to the bathroom as I shouted at the kids not to walk in the kitchen area without shoes on.
I couldn’t get the bleeding to stop, but I had to get out of the door, so I wrapped 3 bandages around my finger tip as tightly as I could. I grabbed G’s backpack. “Come on, baby! We’ve got to go now! You’re going to miss your bus!” She took her backpack from me. She looked very concerned. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Mommy! Your finger is bleeding all over my backpack! I’m so sorry you’re hurt!” She was right. Blood was oozing from the tip of my finger. I ran back to the bathroom to grab some toilet paper to prevent the blood from dripping. I threw the front door open with a wad of blood drenched toilet paper stuck to the top of my finger. “Let’s gooooooooo!” I shouted.
And as we ran up the driveway, the bus drove past our house.

So, how was YOUR morning? I’m guessing it was so much better than mine because you are not a procrastinator who pushes down forcefully on glass objects.

So I Guess That Settles That?

G asked for a particularly expensive gift for Christmas.
I explained to her that if that was really what she wanted, she most likely would not get anything else because even Santa is on a budget, child. I could tell by the look on her face, she was not happy about this news because there are so many things that she wants!
“How about you and daddy just go ahead and buy me The Expensive Gift that way Santa can bring me all of the other things that I want.”
Before I could respond, she added “And if you and daddy don’t have enough money, then you should just go sit down and start working as fast as you can to make as much money as you can to buy it for me.”
And then she turned her back on me and walked away.

The Second Best Part Was When His Sister Shouted “Hey! That’s My Brother! HE’S MY BROTHER!”

After years of me encouraging (possibly also? Nagging.) My First Baby finally put his fears and insecurities aside and tried out for a school play.
He got the part.
He’s been practicing every day- learning his lines, perfecting his expressions. All of those things that actors need to do to get ready for a performance.
Last night, he put on his costume (that I had to pay for out of my own pocket, damn you The Economy!) took a deep breath and said “see you there, Mom!”
I kissed him on the cheek and wished him luck.
When he walked out on stage, I could see his nerves– he was unsure of himself and of his lines. But as he went on, he became more comfortable, more confident.
It was wonderful watching him up there, enjoying himself and all of his hard work. I was so proud of him.
And I could tell by the smile on his face when we greeted him after the show that he was proud of himself. That was the best part for me, really.

The Lloyd

Today I dropped my oldest son off at the barber shop so he could get a hair cut. He wasn’t happy about it cutting it, but he has a starring role in a school play tomorrow and so he had to do it. When I dropped him off, I told him to ask for a “trim only.”
Um, either my son doesn’t know how to communicate the idea of “just a trim” or the barber didn’t understand English. Because, you guys, THIS happened.

Luckily, I’ve raised a son who can laugh about things like this. We’ve been laughing about it all night. He MAY not find it as funny in the morning when he has to go to school, but for now, Oh, how we laugh!
(For the record, the photo was his idea. Because my kid is awesome.)

The Walk Home- Would You Say Yes?

My daughter.
Oh, my daughter.
Just 6 years old, but ready to take on the world by herself.
Miss. Independent.
Her independent spirit is both a blessing and a curse. It’s been challenging as a mother to learn when to step in and say “enough- you NEED HELP” (usually when we are running late and there isn’t another minute to spare for her to figure shit out) and when to step away and let her work it out.
Another challenge I face is the “is it too soon for her to *fill in the blank*?” You see, she wants to do things that I do not feel she’s ready for at 6 years old.
There is one thing in particular that she wants to do and has been begging me to allow her to do for the past 2 weeks.

Walk home from the bus stop all by herself.
Each time she has asked me this question (every day, for the past 14 days, multiple times each day OMG.) my answer has been “No.” And her response has always been “but why not?” And my response is always “because you’re too young.” And her response has always been “but I know that I need to stay on the side of the road and watch for cars and not to get in a stranger’s car!”
My response?
“Even still… no, child.”
Her response?
“When are you going to let me grow up, mother?”
Sigh.
Today, I was sitting at my desk, working while Rhianna blasted on my iPod. It was 1:25pm, 45 before I had to leave to pick up kid #1 from school. I thought I heard the door bell ring. I ignored it at first, because I usually don’t answer the door if I’m not expecting someone. But then it rang again. And again. And again.
Ding dong. Ding dong. Ding dong.
Who the HELL?
I got out of my chair, tip toed to take a look through the peephole.
I didn’t see anyone right away.
Huh, I thought. That was weird.
But then the bell rang again. This time, I saw what appeared to be MY DAUGHTER.
I opened the door. Standing in front of me was my little girl and she had the biggest smile on her face.
I was confused for a second or 12.
“I did it, Mommy! I told you I could do it! Thank you for letting me walk home all by myself!”
I didn’t let her walk home by herself. What I had done was forgotten that it was early dismissal because of parent/teacher conferences.
I started shaking and I know that sounds dramatic but it felt dramatic. I had forgotten that my daughter got out of school early and she had WALKED HOME FROM THE BUS STOP ALL BY HERSELF.
Right after it happened, I did what any digital mom would do. I posted about it on Facebook.

My daughter has been asking me to let her walk home from the bus stop for the past 2 weeks. My answer has been “NO!” She’s only 6! Just now, the door bell rang. It was my daughter. Apparently, it was early dismissal & I didn’t know it. I feel like a horrible mother, but she is SO PROUD.

The comments kind of surprised me.
They ranged from “I would need someone to hold me.” And “I think I’d have a heart attack!” to “Free range kids, baby!” And “God took care of cutting the umbilical cord a little more today.”
Which got me thinking… is 6 really too young to walk home from the bus stop alone (the bus stop is around the corner from our street, not far at all.) Or am I being overprotective, smothering mother who is not letting my child be the independent child that she wants to be? Would you (do you) let your first grader walk home from the bus stop all alone?

Happy Girl. Happy Mama. Happy Halloween!

I wasn’t sure that G was going to be able to celebrate Halloween this year. It’s been a rough few days. But yesterday she showed huge signs of improvement. Last night, she asked if she could go to school today– she didn’t want to miss the costume parade/class party. I told her I’d make my decision in the morning.
She slept through the night for the first time in so many nights– Not a single coughing episode. And this morning when she woke up, she was happy and most importantly, cough free. My Mama Gut said she was fine to go to school and so I gave her the good news.
She smiled the biggest smile and hugged me tightly. Joy!
Of course, 20 minutes later it was all “MY HEAD ITCHES” and “DO I HAVE TO WEAR THIS HAT?” and “I HATE FRECKLES!”
But Oh My Justin Bieber (as G says), once I finished braiding and bobby pinning her 200 pounds of hair into that wig, she looked absolutely adorable.

One Day This Blog Will Be Funny Again. At Least I Hope So.

When I said I was going to write every day, I freaking meant it. But then, life went and got all BATSHITCRAZYINSANEWTF?!
I don’t even know where to start because so much has happened, but there is so little I can actually write about it. This is why I’ve remained silent. Because what’s the point of writing through something if you can’t write what you really need/want to say?
What I can say is this: I went to Vegas, had an amazing time with friends and family, came home and shit hit the fan. In an instant, everything was different. Friendships were severed, lives were in ruin.
I spent the last week processing my feelings about the situation and have come to the realization that it just sucks. And it’s going to continue to suck for months and months.
You know what else sucks?
When your child has pneumonia.
Over a week ago, G developed a cough. I always worry about her when she gets a cough because of her history with RSV and asthma and 911 calls and late night trips to the ER. The cough seemed pretty ordinary, until Wednesday night. So, I called early Thursday morning to try to get an appointment to see her doctor. Unfortunately, he had no appointments available, so they scheduled her with another doctor. This doctor was nice enough, but her diagnosis of “allergies” didn’t sit right with me. But she’s the doctor, right? (WRONG.) On Friday, I was back at Kaiser. This time we were able to see our doctor and he was all “yeah, sounds a little bronchial to me. Let’s get her on antibiotics.” I thanked him and said “I’ve not had much sleep the past few nights” to which he responded “No wonder you look the way you do!”
Dysfunctional doctor/patient relationships are so much fun!
She started to improve, enough so that we decided to take her to the pumpkin patch on Sunday.
Apparently, that wasn’t our best Parental Move because Sunday night, her cough intensified and she broke out with fever.
We took her back to the doctor’s on Monday. He took x-rays and didn’t like what he saw. He said he was going to treat her for pneumonia. He gave her a shot of antibiotics and switched up her medication.
She seemed to be doing better yesterday, but last night, around 1am, she had another coughing spasm and today, the coughing and wheezing continues.
I am now trying to decide if I should take her back to see the doctor because I think she should be improving after 2 days on the new antibiotics. But maybe I’m not giving it enough time? The thing is– it’s her lungs. You don’t screw around when it comes to the lungs.
I feel so bad for my daughter. All of the coughing and sleepless nights have left her physically exhausted and emotionally fragile. She’s doing the best she can to get through this. She takes her medication and her inhaler without complaining. She rests when I tell her she needs to rest. She drinks all of the water and juice that I ask her to drink and all without whining or complaining. She has had a few moments where she’s broken down and cried. All I can do is hold her closely and let her know that I am doing everything in my power to make sure she’s being taken care of properly so that she gets better as soon as possible. I’ve broken down and cried myself a few times–It’s rough when you have to watch your child suffer. I want nothing more than for her to get well so she can get back to being a little girl again.

Chicks, Man.

Last night PigHunter was sitting on the couch watching online instructional videos for “how to make apple crisps.” I was sitting at the kitchen table giving my daughter a french manicure because she is obsessed with french manicures.
After PigHunter was finished watching cooking videos, he turned on the television. He changed the channel until he ended up on whatever channel it was that was showing Pretty In Pink.
G turned her head towards the TV. “What are you watching, Dad?” She asked.
“Pretty In Pink.” He replied.
“What’s that about?” She asked, in a tone that indicated she was a liiiiiiittle disturbed that her dad was watching a show that had the words “pretty” and “pink” in the title.
“It’s an 80’s movie.” He said.
She paused for a minute. Looked at me. Looked at him.
“I’m pretty sure you mean LADIES movie, Dad because you’re totally being a chick right now.”
We laughed until one of us peed in our pants a little.

Rainy Day

There was nothing I loved more as a child then playing in the rain. I loved placing a leaf in the stream of water gushing down the street, on it’s way to the gutter, and seeing how fast it would wash away. I love titling my head back and feeling the rain on my face. I loved dancing in it, jumping in puddles and twirling around while singing in it.
Yesterday, it started to pour. I told my daughter to grab her coat so we could go out and play in the rain.
I watched as she stuck her hands out to let the rain drench her palms. She giggled and stepped out a little further. Her clothes started to get wet. It bothered her for a minute, but I told her that it was okay! She could change when she got inside. So, she just went for it, allowing herself to experience the rain on her hands, on her face, on her clothed little body.
I stood next to her, enjoying the feeling of both the rain and my daughter’s joy.
Magical, that rain.