Motherhood: Addicted to Love

There are so many moments that make up the experience we call motherhood.  There are "awww" moments, where the little special snowflakes snuggle up and say something very sweet, like "Mommy, I love to snuggle witch you."  Those make-your-heart-melt moments that we all live for, right??  I have a house of 5 girls, and I get plenty of those moments.  Someone always wants a snuggle.


There are the "Doh!" moments, too, that translate into something like this: "Mommy, you have such pretty brown eyes..they are the same color as my poop!" or..."I love your big boobies Mommy, they're squishy!" which is usually accompanied by the speaker pounding on them mightily in order to achieve maximum bounce.

Also, there are the unfortunate and frequent "ARGH!" moments when you are so angry and frustrated at something the snowflake said or did that you are strongly considering reverse International adoption, and you're about to speed-dial Angelina Jolie. These are the moments when you wish Nebraska (?) or whatever state that was, hadn't repealed their ill-advised 'drop off your unwanted child' law that neglected to specify age, resulting in sullen teenagers from neighboring states being left at hospitals and police stations all across the state.  Some of these moments include: "I'm sorry I gave Fynnlie a permanent marker to play with Mommy.  She drew on the kitchen floor with it.  Well, I kind of helped.  Actually, it was all me, Fynnlie was sleeping.  See how I drew a picture of YOU Mommy? I made you with some squishy boobies."

All of these ring familiar with Moms across the nation.  But let's explore what happens when they all flash-bang together in the middle of the night.  When Aww, Doh! and ARGH! collide. It's the trifecta of Mommy moments, and though rare, is a unique and special part of parenting, so you must be watchful.

The scene: It's 12:00 midnight.  I was going to write 11:30, so I didn't look like such a horrific parent, but then I said, what the hell, I'm all in.  So it's midnight (ok..1:00am, really..) and the girls had stayed up late (you think?) watching Prince Caspian.  Casadie (8 years old) was bopping back and forth between the movie and the schoolroom, where she was trying to bang out some schoolwork that she had been working on all day.  So the movie is over, the little girls stumble blindly toward bed, and Casadie is all smiles.  She begs to sleep with me in my bed (Daddy works the night shift) and I decline, telling her Mommy needs a night without an elbow/foot/knee/4 fingers and a toe slamming into her side/back/face.  Casadie's face falls. Then brightens. She decides to "clean up the living room" before she goes to bed.  I decline, and point her toward the stairs.  She heads up. She comes back down to hug me. (aww, moment).  She goes back up.  She comes back down to tell me I forgot her vitamin, again. (Doh! moment) She goes back up.  She comes back down to ask me if tomorrow we can play Dad's electronic battleship game. (ARGH moment!)  "GO TO BED!!!!" I scream.  She deflates, and slowly...ever so slowly... plods her way up the stairs in dramatic fashion.  Several long minutes later, I see her standing quietly on the landing....

I'm building up to a 'OMGIMAKILLYOU' moment, when she speaks softly.  "Mommy..? I don't know what it is..I think I'm just..I don't know...addicted to you! I can't be away from you!" (aww, moment)  I allow the hug, knowing that I'm being manipulated, but loving every second. After all, she's in that sweet spot of 8 years old, where for now, snuggling with Mom is still cool. It won't be long before BOP magazine (is that still in print??) and other such teenybopper things will consume her life and I'll be dropped like a limp piece of broccoli.  She continues. "It's like..it's like..well, it's like you're a drug. Kind of like how, you know, you were addicted to Diet Coke, and now you're addicted to Spaghetti and you know, it kind of makes you fat..." (Doh! moment)  "It's like that, and you're my..my..my sugar, I think. I'm addicted to your sugar, and I need to spend lots of time with you.  (awww, moment)  We snuggle and hug for a few minutes, and she looks slyly up at me, sees me tearing up a wee bit, and says: "That makes you feel good, right? NOW can I sleep in your bed??" (ARGH! Moment!!!) She got an "A" for effort, a not-as-gentle-as-it-should-have-been love pat on the butt, and a smiled admonishment to stay in bed.  I went to bed, confused as usual.  Motherhood. It's tagline could be: "This is your heart.  This is your heart on crack."

So what are some of YOUR awww, Doh! and Argh! moments?  Any "OMGIMAKILLYOU" moments you want to share? Anyone interested in a shared roadtrip to Nebraska, and see if they're still allowing the sullen teenager dropoffs?

Bethanie's Robot

As parents, I’m sure we all deal with unusual requests from our children.  From the simple, “I want all my food to be orange,” to the unfulfillable “Can we visit Barbie in her castle at the North Pole?”  Honestly, I remember circling EVERYTHING in the Sears Wish book, and handing it over proudly to my Mother.  Although, I’m not entirely clear on whether I was actually expecting everything in the book to be under the tree, or if I simply wanted to give Santa a good variety of wonderful things to choose from.

Heck, I’ll even admit that at 15, my best friend and I found a house for sale.  We absolutely felt it was the best idea in the whole world to have our parents BUY US THE HOUSE, and let us live there.  As roommates.  At 15 years old.  Our justification for this request was that we wouldn’t fight as much with our parents if we lived on our own.  We actually thought they’d go for this, or at least I did..maybe Kristin was more realistic.  It was a block and a half from her house, and we just KNEW that her Dad could adequately supervise us from a block away.  There was endless dramatic begging, pleading and reasoning for weeks on end, until the house finally sold to some other lucky buyer, presumably of legal age.  This made our request a moot point, and eventually we lost interest.  Now, to give me credit, I still maintain that at the $30,000-40,000 asking price of 1986, it would have been a good investment. *wink, wink*

Today, with my own kids, I see examples of these unusual requests, but not normally on such a grand scale.  I’ve been asked for two birthday cakes-with two different themes, which was indulgent of us, but doable.  Or we’re asked for another baby sister or even a brother, which is certainly conceivable. *snort*  I even get asked for daily field trips in our homeschool.  Unrealistic, certainly, but easily deferred and replaced by another fun activity.

My oldest daughter, though, dreams big~just like her mother.  15 now, she’s never easily defeated, is pleasantly persistent, and is certainly self-confident and assertive with what she wants.  One day, however, she stated she wanted to build a robot.  She came to me, all of 7 or 8 years old, with a sketch in hand. 

“Mom, I want to build a robot.”

“That’s wonderful Beth! I’m sure you will someday. You can do anything you set out to do when you grow up.” (We have a very supportive parenting philosophy.)

“I want to build it now.”

“Oh.  Ok sweetheart..why don’t you go borrow Alex’s Legos.  I can’t wait to see it!”

“No, I want to build a REAL robot.”~complete with eye roll and pleading voice.

“Oh, I see.  Well, sweetie, I’m not sure how to build a robot”                                        (keep in mind, this is before we homeschooled and I was clueless about ideas and resources.  If this question popped up now, I’d simply log into my yahoo account, slap a question on the homeschool board, and 15 minutes later, I’d have a list of parts, lesson plans, objectives and scope/sequence).

“Why don’t you draw me a picture of the robot you want to build, and we can research how to do it later?” *Big supportive Smiley Face.~see the beginnings of a homeschool Mom here?

“No, I want to build it NOW!”

“Ummm..honey..what do you want to build it out of?” *slightly less supportive, but hopeful for a reasonable response*

“Parts from the junkyard.  We can go buy them right now!” *you can practically hear the Duh Mom in this statement, can’t ya?

“Ummm” *facepalm* (keep in mind, it’s 6pm on a weekday, and Beth has never been to, or even SEEN a junkyard at this point in her young life.  I wouldn’t even know where to FIND a junkyard, nor would any amount of junkyard pieces fit in our then-tiny apartment.)

“Bethanie, sweetheart, we can’t go to a junkyard tonight.  They’re closed.  Why don’t you draw it exactly how you want it, and then build a model out of Play-Dough or Legos, and then we can make a list of what we need and go to the craft store, or the , junkyard in a few days.

“No, I wanna build it now.  Why can’t we go to the junkyard NOW?” (not angry, but honestly confused and pleading.)

“Beth.  It’s late and we don’t know what you need.”

“Wires and metal plates.  And some screws.”  Duh Mom strikes again

“Sweetie, that all seems very reasonable and correct, but first, it costs money.  Second, we don’t know how to connect it.  Third, we don’t have any tools.”

“But Dad has a hammer and a screwdriver.” 

*facepalm*   

This conversation goes on for 20 minutes with me alternately extraordinarily amused by her insistence and innocence, and being ridiculously exasperated at her unyielding persistence.

I’m positive it ended something like this:

“OH MY GAWD, we canNOT go to a junkyard right this minute, for heaven’s sake.  Now, either go draw me a picture of this super-cool robot, or go get your pajamas on-but just drop it ok?????!!??

Quietly: “Okaaay Mom, but can we go to the junkyard before school tomorrow?”

AAAAAAGGGHHHH!

Just think.  If my Mom had bought me that house, I could have used the equity to buy her some highly advanced robot kit from Radio Shack, along with some extra parts from the junkyard.  I think I’ll just blame all this on the stonewalling Kristin and I got from our parents.  Thanks a lot guys, for killing a little girl’s robot dream.  Good job.  *eye roll*

So, what's the craziest thing YOUR kids have ever requested?  Or did you have unreasonable demands as a child that you're only now recognizing as you grow up and understand your parent's point of view?  Anyone letting their 15 year olds live in a nearby home?

A "Do-Nothing" vacation

Dear hubby and I took this week off work, originally to move into our newly constructed Engle home. Since that fell through, we thought about giving back the time and just working, but we both needed a break. We envisioned this week as a productive week in which we got projects done around the house, but so far (5 days into it), it's been a "drive-about-town and check-out-other-new-home-communities" vacation. Hubby did get a ceiling fan installed, and we celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary. Our 7 year itch seems to mostly comprise trying to improve our standard of living, and how/where best we could accomplish that goal.

Son A (15)was grounded pretty much for life this week...for hoarding a poor report card, and blatantly lying for over two weeks in an attempt to avoid the inevitable discussion. "Mom, they're having computer glitches..it'll be mailed out soon!" Does he think we're idiots??? OY. Long lists of chores will be compiled this week to help fill the void left by the absence of video games, computer games, email and pretty much anything fun. With Florida having a guaranteed paid college education program, we're trying to get the message across that his C's and D's are costing him a free shot at his future.

Daughter C has taken to drawing pretty obsessively. She's 4, and is going through paper like it's from a renewable resource or something. Pretty hard to explain to a pre-schooler that paper doesn't grow on trees when it, in fact, does. *sigh* Yesterday, she asked me to show her how to draw a flower, and massive flower gardens have been popping up all over the refrigerator and surrounding house areas. Daughter D, not quite 2, is emulating her sister, and also insists on drawing when C is.

Daughters B and E are moseying along in life, just trying to stay out of the way of grounded brothers and flying reams of paper art.

Hubby and I are preparing for the tough return to work next week, and resisting the temptation to claim our remaining 6 weeks of Family leave that we could use in Daughter E's first year!