When My Tribe Has Failed Me

I loathe summer after the first two weeks. It is not because the boys get up at the crack of dawn (which they do). It is not because they try to crawl up my behind every minute of the day (they do that, too). They are pretty self sufficient three-fourths of the time. Honestly, I love school because it is a free babysitter.

School: the ultimate daycare provider. No one shames me for my enjoyment at seeing them walk through those double doors because it is educational (and kind of a requirement). I can do a dance like no one is watching on the drive home (mostly in my own driveway). I do not pray for the teachers. They took the job on purpose.

I have reached a high point after twelve years of being a SAHM and then a part time SAHM. I savor my cup of coffee if I wait till 8:30 a.m. I enjoy a few hours of eerie silence. I relish non-sticky floors and tables until dinner time. I can hop in the shower, walk around the house naked, and possibly have sexy time with my husband. Then take a nap to recuperate.

Jealous, yet?

If you have a tribe that you can depend on, I am, actually, more jealous of you.

I find it hard to comprehend. It is a lonely life. Why would someone want that? No one sees sees it that way.

I was brain washed to believe that, even though, I only have two hands, two more are only an arm's length away. I was raised by more than one mother, father, sister and brother. There was always someone around to take care of me. To ask questions. To answer questions.

I have parents, who live 20 minutes away, who have not offered to spend time with their grandchildren (on their own) for two years. The in-laws can not even offer because they live in different states. It is hard enough for me to spend money on us, let along fifty bucks a pop on a sitter. Who my kids can be crazy towards. Or who can judge us as parents. (Even though, I'm paying them.) Every time I see a social media status that reads "Grandparents are taking the heathens for a week" or "Third kid free weekend in a row", I get a little stabby.

I understand that life happens. Everyone has schedules that do not revolve around me and I have a schedule that revolves around my kids, husband, work and etc. I accept and deduce that if you have three kids (or more) under five years of age, your invitation to get together will probably fall through.

I miss being able to hang out with people and just....hang out. I do not want to feel like there are strings attached. Yes, I'm whining. However, when my tribe has failed me, I call bullshit.

• Never volunteer to watch my children and ask me again if/when I'm going to have more.....bullshit.

• Complain that we do not see each other enough, then call (or do not call at all) and cancel plans because you slept till noon.....bullshit.

• I only see you at Christmas but please call to borrow enough money to pay a mortgage (but that is not what you're spending it on), even though you make more than me and have no kids...bullshit.

• Ask us to fly, last minute, (during a two month lay-off) when you have never visited and we have drove 32 hours round trip, with two kids, three times.....bullshit.

• Fail to take a firm grasp on your husband's balls and back out of an already paid for (by me) event that I gave you three months notice for.....bullshit.

I have no tribe. I have to take care of myself and the ones in the other room.We have survived thirteen years together and there was quite a bit of "come hell or high water". I cannot turn back time, control other people's actions or force the impossible.

Life really is survival of the fittest. The strongest minds and the strongest connections.

I've realized that only I can make time for me and mine. I'll appreciate my pack of four.

I Am A Helicopter Parent

The title says enough doesn't it?

What else can I say?

You see me. I stand out. I'm already labeled as soon as I walk onto the playground with my extra bottles of water, hats and holding my 6 year old's hand tightly. I shy away from the mommy crowd and consistently crow "Walk, don't run." and "Be careful". I'm a broken record.

Yes, I feel your eyes. They are like a laser into the back of my head as you watch me hoover around my child. I will circle. I will follow. I will "play" with them. I will watch and talk to them and....just make sure.

There's a difference, though. I couldn't care less about your child. Not for one minute. I'm in my own bubble.

Unless he/she is harming mine. Do I think that you're slacking off? Do I think you should be paying more attention? Especially when they are throwing rocks? Do I think you should be more wary? Especially when they are putting said rocks up their nose. Sure. And my eyes will be like a laser into the back of your head.

I know there are many different reasons why you are on your phone, why you are reading your book and why you're chatting with your friends. In the back of mind, I get it. I won't vocalize my questions/concerns. I try not to judge. I'm actually jealous. I wish I could be at ease;free of mind to be able to relax. And not turn into a hawk, circling it's brood.

I can't help it. Call it human nature. Call it my nature.

I see a jungle gym ladder, I see a fall. I see a slide, I see a crash. I see boo boos and tears and broken bones. I can't help but feel that my paranoia is what works for me. It may not be the best thing. But it's what I do.

Yes, they will fall. They will scrap knees, bruise elbows and need band-aids. They need to discover, play and learn on their own. I need to let them be and explore. So they can build confidence and practice using their common sense. They need to get dirt underneath their nails.

I need to swallow my anxieties like a bad medicine. My patience will grow as I age. My insecurities as a parent will disappear as I conquer each milestone.

I'm just not ready yet.

Baby steps.

1940's Sitcom vs. Nonbeliever

     The door opens and a father whistles as he walks into his white picket fenced house. Cue aproned wife with immaculate hair who smells like cherry pie. Two, well behaved and clean, children calmly walk down the steps to meet their father with proper greetings. They all kiss and walk through the
swinging door to the kitchen, letting the smell of a 5 course dinner drift out.

     Now let's add some color to the black and white.

     The door opens and a father walks into his peeling, white apartment. Cue wife, in day old pajamas, sitting on couch or no wife at all. She's at work in order to pay for that new white paint. The place smells like dog, dirty diapers and that odd smell of 5 people living together. There's a child screaming in the kitchen because he doesn't want to do his homework. Another in the refrigerator (with the freezer open, too) and a third eating the food out of the dog dish.
     Dinner is the take out Mom will bring home after work or Dad can order pizza. Quite possibly a microwavable dinner from Aldi's/Piggly Wiggly/the-cheapest-grocery-store-there-is with a side of whatever kid #2 will pick at, kid #3 will feed the dog and kid #1... where did kid #1 go? He was supposed to be doing his homework...

     We've seen that picture floating around on Facebook.  There's a kid coming out of every orifice in some form of chaos.

     I'm not saying that parenthood is that bad. But it definitely is not Scene A. Well, maybe if your husband's a doctor and or if you have the Mother Goose Syndrome (I made that shit up).
     5 out of 10 women have kids outside of marriage. 4 out of 10 raise kids by themselves ( I also made that up). So out of 10 women you have a 10 percent chance to marry Prince Charming and live the fairy tale (depending on what your fairy tale dream is).
     I don't know about you, but I've never seen Snow White wipe poop off her one year old's nursery wall because he/she found inspiration. Or miss her 6 year old's kindergarten graduation because her 8 month old is teething and the babysitter list is one name long.
     Now why did I have kids? I was the stereotype, irresponsible teenager who forgot to wrap it up. #2 came to be because I figured that I survived the first one and the hell why not? It's the "thing" to do. The house, marriage and kid package.
      I recommend that if you see having children as Scene A, then DON'T. Nothing on television comes even close to reality, even the reality shows. There are no commercials (but plenty of re-runs). If you can't picture handling Scene C without losing it, then you might not make it. Not to mention you have to survive pregnancy to begin with.
     Life itself is chaotic without kids. Add a kid or four and add some gray hairs. Another living being is in your care and you could screw it all up at any moment. No matter how many parenting magazines or online doctor articles I read, most of the time I'm winging it. It doesn't feel like it gets any easier as they get older. Age equals more responsibility for them which turns you into nervous wreck and makes you over think if you've prepared them enough.
     It's not all bad. I will give you that. There are first smiles (which are usually gas or blowouts) and first steps, first tooth, first kiss, first car, and first date. You get to play with Matchbox cars, watch Scooby Doo and eat Spaghetti O's. Make-believe is the new you. Santa Clause and all those magical creatures are real again. You give your kids all of you and they give you laughter.
     You just learn to go with it. If you don't, you might lose it and some days you do. Things get broken, lost, stained or time seems wasted.
     Life happens. Frame the smiles. You won't regret it.



2015

Today I feel very thinky. (That's my word by the way.)

It's been a nice, boring day. I slept in. Everyone slept in. Except for The Man, who never sleeps it seems. I made lists and movie binged.

Today I feel very appreciative, too.

Life is more than vacations, food, pictures or forget me nots. Life is being completely content. Days where everyone is getting along are the ones to remember and I wish I could take a picture of the feeling. Instead of scratch and smell, we need a scratch and feel? Someone needs to invent that.

Last night was New Year's Eve. I procrastinated planning anything. I've been really introvert lately. The idea of sitting in someone's house and forcing idle chit chit was literally making me have an anxiety attack. We just got back from a mini vacation, so just picking up and leaving to some far off place for the holiday was not an option. I just didn't want to deal with people. I have to own up and blame it on the melancholy feeling we've all been having since our furry canine passed away last week (another post for another day).

Eventually, I left the what to do up to the boy's. We invited a couple of friends, with their kids, over. Long story short, I had a good time. I didn't want to hide upstairs and watch a movie with the kids. Or find excuses to go to the bathroom (which is upstairs). I have to connect the whole evening to the people that we invited. Sure, they've been over before. But there is another couple that we usually ask to come with them. We invited them this time, too. However, they wanted to invite other people that probably wouldn't be child friendly (again).

I was actually firm with my opinion. I said no. If I had wanted to hang out with stupid drunk people, I would've just planned for a babysitter and went to the bar. Then I could leave any time I wanted and leave the idiots there, too. I think they took offense. I have to be okay with that. I enjoyed myself and honestly am surprised. And stress-free.

So 2015. What does it hold? What does it mean? What will be different?

It means another year that is going to go by way too fast. Another year together with the select people I CHOOSE. I want it to be a year where I delete anything that does not make me happy or stresses me out. I want to appreciate everything more. I want to love my husband and hold my children.

I want to enjoy things and be myself. I also want to stamp, in purple ink, onto my brain, "I should be happy".

-J