Thursday, October 16, 2008

Bad mommy

I just spent 2 hours on the internet. In that time though I've done some things that could be considered helpful...I did upload new pics of baby boy for family far and away to see. C'mon, that was necessary. But now nap time is over and I'm yellin "NO!" at baby boy everytime he grabs my power cord...and engaging in a childish "touched you last"-esque fight with him. He grabs the screen, I move his arm. He grabs the screen, I move his arm. Why can't I just log off? PLEASE baby boy...just watch this cartoon. Those little blob-y, pastel, um- creatures? Are very funny! Look at them singing and, er, um-rolling? and I guess one could say dancing on their little blob-y bottoms! What the heck are these things supposed to be? How can I rely on educational television to baby sit my child in my absence when they would be teaching my son that blob-y creatures live in the forest and sing and dance nonsense words? Agh!

I suppose it's no beter than the Barbapapas, or the monchichis. Or the...well, I survived. And so will he. While I finish this blog. And then search for some brown boots on

Sunday, October 5, 2008

I don't know how she "f&*king does it!

Ok, I've just started reading that book "I don't know how she does it". I know, I can tell by the pop culture references (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, etc) that I'm about 5 or 6 years behind the times here. But 5 or 6 years ago this book had nothing to do with me. Now I can relate, so I'm reading it. Actually I can relate but it is just pissing me off. The story follows a high ranking exec with oodles and oodles of cash flow who has two kids she feels she neglects, but needs to do so because working makes her a better mother when she is home-or no wait, she calls that a lie working mom's tell themselves to make themselves feel better about their er, she needs to work because she ? Look-I will be a working mother. I'm planning on going back full time in two months-don't remind me or I might cry (time is no longer creeping and I'm getting a little weapy thinking a bout leavig him in daycare!). But this book is pissing me off because clearly this woman likes her job, but all she does is complain about everything in her life... and how desperately she is sad, tired, guilty, etc, etc, etc. I guess I just don't understand the use of paying the nanny more than your spouse makes so you can go to work and be miserable. Surely there is a compromise somewhere? A lesser job in a similar field? Maybe I don't understand these high powered execs...but if you can pay a nanny a huge salary, all of her vacations, buy yourself all the designer goods you want, travel the world? Well where's the misery?

It's been a busy couple of months for me. I decided to take on a little "job" while on mat leave-directing a show. I worked with some awesome, understanding ladies on this play-it was really nice to be around creative souls and have the comraderie of women (You know me, I usually hate other women so it was great to enjoy their company for a change). But it really was my first taste of working while having a baby. I think I did an ok job of it...but I made some mistakes for sure. I think I could do a far better job of writing this fucking "I don't know how she does it" book...and the reality of it is I did it for no money. Zero. Actually I'm out a shit tonne for all the babysitting I paid (my sitter makes more than I do too! Damn teenagers these days!). And yeah I felt guilty and at times neglectful...but it was all worth it. I got joy from it in many ways, and I think baby boy gained some awesome extra time with dada and lots of his little friends (whose moms so graciously baby sat for us)...he was social and I wasn't clinging to him and we both learned a lot. And at the end of the day, yeah it was a lot of work and I'm tired, but I always came home excited, not comatose and sobbing. This "I don't know how she does it" bitch needs to reevaluate. "Doing it all" I think means not just making it look easy to keep up with the Jones'...I'm so over that. You need to do it all or not, and not care...but be happy with the choice you made. Forget this martyr crap for the sake of a few pats on the back from strangers.

You only need to pull the martyr crap with your spouse so he feels bad for you and finally does the dishes or whatever. Otherwise, work or don't work but don't live a life of misery because it "looks" good. I think I'll be returning this book to the library on time.

Toot! Toot! the FART train is here

Lately my son has a definite preference for dad. It is pissing me off. I realize the guy is a novelty-around on the weekends and sometimes before baby boy hits the sack on weeknights. It's a great treat when dada is home for bath time, for sure. I mean, I am sooooo grateful when hubby gets home in time to help out with some parenting things at the end of a long day. And I do long for him to see baby boy more and more...but when baby boy lights up when dada walks into the room, I admit my heart feels a little blacker for my jealously. Damn, kid! I do everything for you and you can't muster a little smile for me?!?! I think this is where most mothers begin on their journey of guilt and over-mothering. So I must stop myself while I still can.

One thing going for me is that I certainly am the more creative of us two parents. Everything we do is a song...and every song is different. I am not sure what I'll do when he is a toddler and he is asking for the "poopy song"-NO NOT THAT ONE! THE ONE FROM YESTERDAY! and I have no idea how it goes. I imagine that will be really annoying, for both of us. But for now, baby boy seems really into my silly lyrics and warbling tunes...or is that a smirk on his little face instead of a smile? "Oh geeeeez mom, knock it off!".

My favorite tune sounds like something out of the musical "Oklahoma!". I made it up. This one I can repeat, though the theme does change depending on what we are doing:
He's the cutest damn boy in the west!
His ASS-plosions are better than all the rest!

I replace the "snicker" with baby boy's name though so it's more personal. And please...I understand that damn and ass might be, gasp! swear words to some of you. But remember I grew up with a mom who swore every second word ("I fucking love you!")...and I didn't start swearing until I was 18.

This post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as an entry for a contest sponsored by Bush’s Beans, where they asked what kind of songs you sing to your kids-a re-worked classic with new lyrics? Or simple renditions of Twinkle, Twinkle? Bush's beans are on a mission to resolve the issue with the "beans, beans the musical fruit" song since beans are not a fruit at all. You can check out the contest for re-writing this classic here. The funny thing is...and maybe people from the east coast (moi) are dirtier minded than most of North America...but I never learned it that way! To us it was always "beans, beans, good for your heart. The more you eat, the more you FART." Fart is NOT a bad word, surely? What is this "toot" business. I don;t want baby boy running around saying "mom I tooted!". I had a cousin that made her boy say "fluff" instead of fart. Now that's way too polite and mystical for me. Fluff? Like marshmallow fluff? If baby boy's assplosions resembled anything like sweet, confectionary goodness I'd be a marketing him and making millions. But alas, he, like the rest of us, stinks. No, STANKS. Just say fart so we know exactly what you are talking about and can get out of the up-wind fast enough!