Becoming the Mythical Mother

I wish I could be one of those moms who always looks freshly shampooed, dresses in the cutest, latest fashions, has the cutest haircut (she never has roots). Her makeup is flawless, her car is always spotless and her dog never gets fleas. Her children eat organic. Hot dogs are strictly verboten. She runs her own business out of her basement – selling adorably chic children’s clothes, fabulous handmade jewelry, she has a basement. She has sex with her husband at least twice a week and plans their weekly date night. She works out religiously. Her floors are never dirty and you would not dare find a dust bunny the size of a men’s athletic shoe behind her couch. She always sends a thank you card and has her Holiday cards out two weeks before the event.

Oh, hell I could go on but I am starting to hate her. Mainly because I don’t fully believe that she exists. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to be her. But I have begun to think of her like I think of unicorns and dragons. She is more the stuff of Hogwarts than anything I might find in Gymboree. I think I thought of this woman as my model of Motherhood when I first started out. But I have to tell you trying to live up to that bitch’s expectations is exhausting! Yeah, fine…still want to be her. Okay, is it really bad if I can’t remember when I last shampooed my hair? Does dry shampoo count?

In my personal quest at “becoming the Mythical Mother” I must admit my personal care has been one of the things that have slid sideways…just a bit. Not completely mind you. I am not running around this joint green toothed and a head full of unintentional dreads. But any “Me” time has become the “Don’t want to look like something living under a bridge” time. If I find that mysterious and elusive “Me” time lurking in some dark, dust bunny littered corner, I use it to take an extra long shower. You know the one where you shave your legs, armpits and your bikini line. Body lotion is actually used and I floss. Before kids "Me" time was soooo taken for granted. Now if I am not careful lil' things just start falling away. This blog, well it slacked sideways a bit this summer too. It came last to pretty much everything else and normally I am typing with some pretty fuzzy legs.

Sometimes it is all I can do to keep the kids healthy, clean and happy. Then the housework comes next and so on down the line. If all that other stuff gets done in the name of becoming the “Mythical Mother” and there is still time left this house troll shaves her legs. Don’t ask me how I prioritize what gets done, I don’t have the answer to that, although I am sure SHE would hand you a perfectly organized and monogrammed day planner. I think all mommies have that friend they look at and think “how does she do it?” But I am willing to bet underneath the polished facade and that ever smiling face is one knarly bikini line. I mean nobody is that perfect, right?

Yeah, yeah, fine…still want to be her.

Cheese is the time, is the place, is the motion, cheese is the way we are feeling...

Cheese. Glorious cheese. I buy it in bulk. I am talking logs of cheese that would make a Wisconsoneer, (Wisconsonor, Wisconsonite... what exactly do you call people from Wisconsin? I digress...) proud. Why do I buy cheese in such vast quantities one might wonder. Because it is the mainstay of my son's diet. How the kid is not so bound up as to be rigid, the only fruit he will eat is bananas and apple sauce, is a miracle. But he is getting enough calcium by God!

Cheese is the answer to every question to which you might put to him.

Q. Where are you going?

A. To get some cheese.

Q. What are you doing?

A. Eating cheese.

Q. What do you want to be when you grow up?

A. Cheese.

Q. Why did you hit your sister?

A. She looked at my cheese.

He is a very interesting little boy. I never tire of watching him. Did I mention I am lactose intolerant... I am however looking into buying Maddie one of those giant cheese hats. This way he can not only eat it but wear it. I will be posting a pic as soon as it gets here.

Super Summer Slacker

Yes, I am the super-summer-slacker Mom. Summer has come and I have become incredibly lazy. Instead of keeping up with the blog it has gone the way of the scrapbook- if the computer could be dusty and underneath my bed it would be. Just as it would be used to jot down shopping lists and random phone numbers in the sad way that my journal died. My days have been a blur of slip n' slides, bouncy water slides, beaches and pools. Instead of writing all the silly, crazy, annoying, touching, bizarre things that my kids do I... repainted the living room, redecorated in a beachy theme and partook in midday margaritas while the kids played out in the backyard and on the sun porch.
I love summer. So now that I have rested I here my little update. Maddox and Bodhi Mae are brown as berries and have golden highlights in their hair. They are obsessed with pools and the beach. We touched a dead hammerhead shark the other day. I had nightmares, but for days Mad pulled himself across the floor using only his arms and screaming "I'm a shark! Aaarrrrr!" Bodhi didn't think much of the shark, she likes to eat sand. Of which there is a lot all over the floor of the house, but I am loathe to clean it up. It makes me feel like I am on vacation.

Bodhi Mae started walking shortly after her first birthday and luckily she had her Nonni (otherwise known as 'slave girl') to walk around the house with her in circles. She is saying 'Mama, Dada, woof, Maaaa' (which we think is Maddox- mostly because she walks around the house screaming it when he is from home) and something that sounds like 'thank you'. She is still a very serious little girl and likes to stare. She will look strangers up and down, head to toe, a good four or five times before venturing a smile. She seems to be a very old soul.

Maddox is, well, Maddox. He exists on a liquid diet and cheese. He screeches and says things like- "I'm busted brother!" and "That's the freshest!" He will spend most of the day pretending to be some kind of mythical creature or animal and will only answer you if you refer to him as his chosen moniker. For example; "Dragon, would you like a snack?" or "Snake-boy, do you need to use the potty before we go to the store?" The other day he started dancing to imaginary music in his head and shaking his booty like some girl from a rap video. Doubled over, hands on his knees, booty popping up and down like Beyonce. I am not sure when I should become concerned....we don't watch MTV.....hmmmmm.

Soooo, now I renew my commitment to my blog. I must remind myself that my poor children have no scrapbooks and that I am the crappiest journal keeper ever. Now if you will excuse me, I am off to inflate a gigantic squirting, bouncy, water slide, pool thingy!

The Second Child Syndrome

We have all gotten that email.  The one where they show the difference with one and then two kids and then three.  With the first one you sanitize the pacifier in boiling water first and with the second kid you run it under cold water, etc.  

I had so many, should we say, lil ideas about how I was going to raise my newborn.  He wasn't going to watch more than a half a hour of TV a day, would only play with wooden toys, eat only nutritious and healthy food (have I made you gag yet?), the kids would never eat in my car...oh the list goes on and on.

That email sure was right and I bow down before its truthfulness as I feed my 11 month old a mini Hershey's Chocolate bar while she and her brother start on some more Sponge Bob while playing with obnoxious electronic toys...did I mention my car is covered in puffs, Cheerios and Popsicle juice?

How does it happen??

Yes, how does it happen that when I take the laundry out of the dryer about 100 popcorn kernels come flying as well?  Was someone trying to make popcorn in the dryer.  Its not a bad thought really.  It does spin around and get really hot...

Sufficed to say this is not the strangest thing I have ever pulled out of the dryer and it definitely wont be the last odd thing that comes flying out of the dryer I am sure.  I used to fight things like this, now, I am good as long as it isn't alive and that is pretty much the only requirement...well that and the electronics (but he and I already had that convo.  Goodbye sissy's sound machine!).

Now if I had  this laundry basket/washer/dryer I wouldn't letting the kids anywhere near it.  It is just a concept for Electrolux that I stumbled onto online and fell madly in love...a girl can dream... 

The iBasket is a hamper/washer/dryer combo. The transparent iBasket stores your dirty clothes. Once filled, the automatic wash and dry cycle begins. After it has finished drying, the iBasket will send you an email or text message to let you know it’s done.

Bustin'

So Maddox comes out of his room playing with a choo choo train when he saw his sister sitting on the ground with Mommy playing with his piano keyboard.  He rushed up and began  to tug it out of her hands.

Of course I told him no, we don't take toys out of other people's hands.  Yes, I know it is yours, she knows it is yours.  Okay, that's it, if you are going to take this then you give her the train.  

Well, after a bit more of that he let his sister continue to play and strode off to his bedroom.  

Not 30 seconds later I felt a light tap on my shoulder and I looked up to see that Mad is back and standing over me with a quizzical look on his face and he says to me...

"Why you always bustin' on me?"  

Ummmm, say what?  Bustin'?  What the?  Where did you...?  Huh!?  Since I was rendered ridiculous he just turned and walked away.  He has since asked his father the same thing when he got in trouble for messing with the cat's water dish.  Bustin'.  Yeahhhhhh.... I don't know where he got it but I do know I will be cutting back on the cartoons my friend.  How's that for bustin'?

Me do it!

It has happened.  My baby is shedding his baby traits.  Everything right now is "me do it."  

He wants to brush his own teeth, put on his own clothes, wipe his own bottom (yeah, um, how do I get it across to him that Mommy needs to help or we will have a visit from Mr. Itchy Scratchy Bottom all day long?).

The upside is that now he wants to help me around the house.  He loves to vacuum and help put the laundry in the machines.  Of course now I cant vacuum without him chasing after me screaming "ME DO IT!" at the top of his lungs.  

How did this happen?  How did he go from Mama does everything to Mr. Itchy Bottomed Me Do It?  My husband says that I need to let Maddie have more freedom and let him do more things on his own.  But it is so hard to simply stop doing for the boy when in the past three years it has become automatic to take care of all things Maddox.  Now I am just supposed to stop or know when to let him do it on his own.  Ahhhh, cutting the proverbial cord is hard!