ProcrastinationandPanicandDissapointment. Yeah all in one word.

Six weeks until the official due date.

I feel like there is so much to get done to finish preparing for this baby – yet trying to summon the energy to get the list accomplished is near impossible. I start each day more sore then the last and end each night short of breath and completely uncomfortable. I curse the fact that my fucking arms even exist right now – because my god where the hell do I put them when I am attempting to sleep? I am an emotional wreck and in a (well concealed) state of panic because soon there will be two little people to take care of and still only one me and one Stewart. I worry about how the hell I am going to get meals cooked with the world’s busiest toddler in the house AND a new baby. Oh and cleaning? HAH! Another point for me to panic over. Already I feel overwhelmed, and soon it will get worse. I want to spend as much time with The Dictator as possible before the baby is born – yet I want to teach him to be independent and to learn that I can not carry him around any longer. I still need a good middle name for The Deuce.

I want, I need, I have to, I should…….. it never seems to end.

Recently we went to our weekly playgroup which is held in the basement of a community hall. The stairs down to this basement are completely open and freak The Dictator out so normally I have to carry him down the stairs to the play area. On this particular day I bent over to pick him up and contractions started HARD (like 7 cm dilated no epidural contractions – yeah fun times). This has been happening for a couple weeks and is one of the reasons my awesome OB/GYN put me on sick leave from work.  There is no way in heck I can carry a two year old, diaper bag and his hot chocolate down the stairs with that kind of pain – so The Dictator threw a fit. And started crying. And started begging me to carry him. And started apologizing for absolutely no reason (it isn’t his fault – I really needed to sit down a few minutes and let the contraction stop) and breaking my damn heart.  After 15 minutes of trying to get him to calm down (and me being in tears myself) one of my friends walked by on her way down the stairs and carried The Dictator down for me.

And I couldn’t help but be mad.

Mad at myself for crying because I couldn’t do something so simple for my son. Mad at my son because he just wouldn’t wait a minute for Mommy to feel better. Mad at the world for seeing me so upset over really nothing. Mad at all the fucking old people who parked in the community hall parking lot (like a bunch of douche-bags in Oldsmobiles and Buicks with Kleenex boxes in the back window) so they could get their free flu shots and yet we had to walk 2 blocks (no joke) from a parking spot in a residential area to the community hall to go to an organized playgroup. Mad that not one person who walked by and heard me explain to my child that I could NOT carry him down the stairs offered to help me – even just with the fucking bag. Mad that I just didn’t turn around and take The Dictator back to the car (which was the aforementioned 2 blocks away) instead of trying to get him to relax while I caught my breath and got him down those stairs. Mad that I got mad and upset.

I am just a tired emotional wreck with a crampy, slightly bitchy uterus and compressed lungs. Sent your condolences to Stewart in the comments OK?

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Because Somedays a Paragraph is too Much Work.

• I always said I would never get my kid a buzz cut. I mocked the lazy parents who did that shit to their kids. BUT, due to someones irrational fears over scissors lately (WTF??? and where the hell did it come from?) I decided a full on #3 clipper cut was the way to go. You know what? He still looks damn cute and it took no time at all. Still cost $13 like a real haircut though, go figure.

• Seven more weeks until my official due date. I am totally ready mentally to have this baby. House wise? Not so much. I still need curtains for the girls room, and The Dictator has an art project to complete for her room as well. We need to eat our way through the freezer and re-stock on stuff. I am also going to a meal prep place to make 12 dinners for post-baby so that I will not be stressed out over cooking on those really crazy days. Also hospital bag is nowhere near packed yet. I would like to be done Christmas shopping before my due date, which can be underway anytime now since we drew names last weekend. I got Stewart out of the hat (lucky me) which means I have to get him a family gift and our personal gifts. GAH!

• I ordered this bag from LeSportsac (Yes DogMama I KNOW you are totally surprised) and am greatly anticipating the arrival. So cute and so versatile at the same time. It can be a diaper bag or a funky ass tote for all my stuff. I almost bought it in Vegas but $350 is a little much for me, but 75% off makes me happy. Also ordered was a hanging travel toiletry kit for my Mom since she seems to have the travel bug, so that is one small Christmas gift done.

• I am on the hunt for a winter coat for my kid. Not one of those 3 in 1 deals because the sleeves always drive me batshit crazy. Nothing is worse then chasing a second arm up the sleeve of your coat trying to keep two jackets stuck together. Sadly everything else out there is so damn bulky that it makes dealing with buckling a toddler into a car seat near impossible. Also needed: snow pants for a kid with really short legs.

• I am officially off work now. My lovely doctor put me on sick leave last week (even though I worked a couple more shifts before I decided I was done) which means I can enjoy more time with The Dictator before The Deuce arrives. I am actually really enjoying not working at all. Here is hoping that Stewart’s lottery ticket pulls through for tonight. Yeah that’s my retirement plan in this economy, you got a better one?

• Am I crazy? Go ahead and answer that one. I decided to go buy a few canvases for The Dictator to paint for The Deuce’s bedroom. I painted the canvases pink and green and decided to let him do whatever he want to them with white paint. Could be a disaster or it could be cute. I will post photos when we are done with this little project. The Dictator also picked out the ribbon to hang them from the wall – the kid did well! Two year olds and paint? Whoo-boy.

• We have a first name for the baby (and a back-up first and middle name) but we need a middle name. Wanna weigh in on it? Since the first name starts with a vowel we want a middle name to start with a consonant, and Stewart likes the idea of a middle name starting with a J. Me? I still vote for Deuce. :

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Letters to my Son. 2 years and 2 months old.

Dearest Dictator,

Your little cold kept me up most the night while I listened to you hacking from your bedroom. This morning though you seem to be fine except for a few boogers that you keep picking out of your nose and wiping on me. Mommy on the other hand is a little peeved that your cold has caught up with her and knocked me on my but. I am never a fan of calling in sick to work, but yet today I did. I need to get rid of your cold, my cold and catch up on the laundry. Also? I need some sleep since your coughing and Daddy’s tossing and turning kept me up most the night

Daddy and I would like to inform you that when the doorbell rings at 9:30am on a weekday morning, it is very unlikely that it is the Pizza Delivery Guy. Or Grandma. Please stop yelling PIZZA PIZZA to the Purolator/DHL/UPS drivers OK? You make it look like Mommy never cooks and has the Pizza Guy on speed dial. Stop turning me in!

Also, when Mommy goes to the drive through bank machine; it does not dispense french fries. No matter how hard you are wishing for them.

Other then that you are pretty damn awesome.

Love you more then chocolate,

Mommy.

P.S. Please stop asking for beer to drink when we take you out to eat. You are 2, and I am sure Daddy will have no problem letting you have a sip of beer at home when you are 97 years old but until them we have to continue pretending we are Parents of the Year.

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Anxiety.

Tonight will be night number one without The Dictators soother.

I would be such a big fat liar if I said I was fine with this; but the truth be told I am so not fine with it. For one it means my little boy is officially a big kid, and more importantly I have lost the ability to plug him to get him to calm down. The soother was a big tool  the only quiet inducing tool in my parenting arsenal you know?

What finally brought me to this decision?

This week I had a few people over from my Mom Group for lunch and a playdate and my friend DogMama was telling me how Mayson has been without her soother for a week now and it wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. This made me think that maybe it was fine time to ditch our soothers, because like DogMama said “do you really think it is going to get any easier”? Hell to the no it wasn’t going to get easier, I was just hoping he would grow out of them and decide he didn’t need them anymore.

Heh. I much prefer when my child takes care of his own parenting needs…

Knowing in my heart that this was never going to happen I decided that today was the day.

After nap-time I piled all the soothers I could find into the soother jar and hauled The Dictator off to Toys ‘R Us (first we picked up Grandma Danielle). The deal was that he was supposed to hand his jar of soothers over to the cashier to pay for his new toy that he picked out. First my darling son picked out two annoying and loud toys (a talking Mater from Cars and a fire station) and second he was much too distracted by the giant gumball machine at the checkout to even care about giving up the soothers.

To top it off AFTER I explained the situation to the idiot casher she was so confused she gave The Dictator back his soothers. What about the following conversation is so hard to understand?:

Me: My son is going to give you a jar of soothers as payment for his new toy – please put that jar in this non see-through green bag and hand it back to me after OK?

Her: OK. That will be 35$ please.

Me: Whip out debit card – have The Dictator cermoniously hand over the soothers in the jar….

Her: Oh you want to buy this jar of assorted soothers too?

Me: Um no, he is paying you with the soothers that go in the green bag right?… wink wink.

Her: Oh.

Her: Hands the jar of soothers back to The Dictator, who is thankfully distracted by the gumball machine.

Me: Do me a favor, make sure you don’t tell the kids there is no Santa Claus at Christmas OK? That would be a total deal breaker….

This was not a smart girl.

When we got to the car we made a fuss over how big The Dictator was and how all the little babies would like to have his soothers that he left at the store. He seemed pretty OK with it but MY chest felt tight and I was breathing funny and tearing up at the same time. I seriously was freaking out on the inside.

Edited to add:

WTF was I so concerned about? The kid asked for it a few times before bedtime and then went to sleep last night with no issues whatsoever.

Obviously I was the one with the issues.

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Al Bundy and Snippets of My Life

• We are celebrating Stewart’s Birthday this week. I took The Dictator out to purchase a new weed whacker for a gift but it has been renamed the “Daddy Whacker” for no known reason.

• Also renamed is Daddy. He is now known as “Daddy Mommy” around here. Stewart had a couple weeks off work with the family and The Dictator spent so much time with him doing fun things (like streetcars and fast trains) that I have been tossed aside for the new Mommy in town. Although this one comes with a penis. Not so much fun being demoted by a two year old – seriously folks it is killing my ego. The bright side? I have been taking some long ass showers and I smell fantastic.

• I fear my son is turning into “that kid” you all know the one; he hits things or people at random and acts a little like a bully at the playground. Yeah, that kid. We are working hard to stop the hitting, and now that he understands that hitting is wrong we have seen some reduction in the flailing fists of fury.

• Massive sleep regression. The kid would NOT go to bed at night without being rocked to sleep and he wanted to sleep in our bed all the time. Hell no. Finally we (actually I laid it down, Daddy was a sucker for The Dictator calling out for him at night) laid down the ‘cry it out’ gauntlet, put a lock on the bedroom door and took away naps for a few days so he would start sleeping at night again (hence why there is a heck of a long break between blog posts – I was hella tired). Daddy Mommy started a new updated bedtime routine with The Dictator which stressed less cuddling and more being a big boy and now he is easier to put to bed then ever before. Thank Beezus. and also lso thank the Daddy Mommy! Seriously, if he wasn’t the major breadwinner in this house he would be one hell of a stay at home dad/house wife. I know you are jealous.

• The Deuce is officially a girl. Let the shopping games begin!

• Two year old boys like their ‘woodys’. A lot. My son has taken to doing the Al Bundy frequently – even at the kitchen table. Gah!

Question of the day:

Does anyone have a suggestion on how to deal with you sweet little two year old dropping the f-bomb? The larger problem being that he seems to use it in context of a situation. Like when Daddy is pissed about building a play-set and is holding is his anger quite well – yet there is a two year old saying exactly what you really want to say?

Fun times.

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Zenni Optical: A Cheap Pair of Glasses (or three) Review

I am as blind as a bat.

I am also somewhat cheap.

Each year I need to have the prescription updated in my glasses or I face the wrath of constant headaches and nausea. The problem with this is the outright expense and the fact that I get sick of my glasses after a year and want new frames. Usually this costs me $400 – $500 a shot with all the scratch and UV coatings added in. I do not necessarily purchase designer frames nor do I go to a ridiculous ’boutique’ optical store – so really my cost is quite normal.

Now that we have The Dictator and The Deuce is fast approaching I have come to realize that children are very hard on my glasses. They are always dirty from sticky little hands and more then once I have outright thrown an old pair out because someone broke them. I have also always wanted prescription sunglasses (because I break the clip-on or lose them almost immediately) but the cost of such an item has been prohibitive.

I have been looking online for a while at glasses, and one day Googled Cheap Prescription Eyeglasses and was taken to at least 6 different sites offering wicked deals on glasses. After doing some research online and reading reviews I decided to go with Zenni Optical for my first foray into the cheap eyeglasses world.

Zenni Optical is a company that is registered in the USA, but your glasses will come from Hong Kong. This made me a little nervous at first but the overall reviews were favorable so I decided to go for it and order 3 pairs of glasses.

I have always wanted a completely rimless frame but with my high prescription I needed to upgrade to such a high index lens that they just were not a financially viable option (considering I may hate them). At Zenni Optical you can pick the color of the metal and the actual lens shape and size, the ones below are the exact ones I purchased. They showed up with beautifully polished lenses and my prescription was bang-on. Maybe even better then what I got for $500 here in Hickville City. I like them, but I am pleased I never paid $800 here for them, because they really are not worth it.

Rimless Frames with Upgraded Super High Index Lens/UVA and UVB coatings/ Anti Scratch $40.95

Next I picked something a little more sassy then I would normally choose, since they have almost a full frame on them I decided to go for the regular lenses. I am very very pleased with these glasses.

Burgundy fashion frame with regular lenses with UVA and UVB coatings/ Anti Scratch $34.95

Finally I picked a funky frame to turn into sunglasses (upgrading to sunglasses lenses is under $8 extra, unlike other places who want to charge a $150 for tinting on top of the prescription). These are great and I love them, but next time I will choose a larger frame for sunglasses to get more coverage.

Prescription Sunglasses with regular lenses and with 80% Grey tint and scratch coating $35.85

In every pair my prescription was bang on and the quality of the lenses seemed perfectly fine to me. The lenses were all nicely polished on the outside edges (note my last pair of $500 glasses did not polish the lens edge leaving them looking dull and cheap – a big deal if you have coke bottle lenses like me). They were well assembled and all fit pretty well right out of the box with minimal tinkering.

A few tips if you do go this route:

• Get a copy of your prescription from the eye doctor. By law they have to give it to you. Maybe go for a whole new eye exam and start fresh.
• Make them also measure your pupillary distance and give you those values. Often they will try to tell you whoever sells you your glasses will do it for you but I told them I needed them to order custom made goggles through work.
• Have some patience. It took a week to get my glasses made and then another 1.5 weeks to get to Canada. I have heard of much longer time-lines, but at under $40 a pair I was OK with waiting.
• Take a good look at your glasses. Measure the width, lens height, temple arm length and bridge so you get an idea of what will fit similar online. I also took into account that I am usually drawn to rectangular glasses with the hinges close to the top and not in the middle. These things all come into play when choosing a frame online.
• Don’t be too set on the color that appears on your monitor; it will likely be a bit different when you get them since not all computer display colors the same.
• If you are squeemish depending on online glasses initially, remember they are cheap online and maybe try ordering your “backup” pair or get some sunglasses to see how it all goes.
• They have children’s frames too, and you know how expensive those can be and how often they need replacing.

Also keep in mind: Total invoice including shipping, eyeglasses cases and nice microfibre cleaning cloths for each pair: $118.65 (American funds). For. Three. Pairs. Of. Glasses

Totally worth it.

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United Airlines Blows Goats in Las Vegas.

In the last week I have spent 3 nights in Las Vegas with my Mom and Stewart on a “Girls Only but Stewart Can Come too Shopping Holiday”. Although it was a real treat to get away I do have a little ranting and raving to do about the holiday.

United Airlines/Ted has to be the second worst carrier I have ever flown (Worst? America West! Hands down biggest goat-fucks ever!). Although the staff in Hickville City and Denver were fine (totally excellent in Denver) and Flight Crews were great;  the airline staff in Las Vegas had to be the slowest, laziest and worst we have ever encountered (funny how my issue with America West was Las Vegas based…. hmmmm).

The Las Vegas ticket agent was likely the slowest person I have met in my life. It played out like this:

Scene: get to the counter and produce the online printed tickets for 3 people – 2 flights each; so 6 tickets total. Nita puts her suitcase (which is the largest of all 3 suitcases) on the weigh-scale.

Ticket agent takes tickets and decides that the tickets need to be ripped apart from the paper they were printed on so that they will be standard ticket size. One by one he fold the paper 8 times slowly over and over to create a crease to rip on. He then picks the paper UP and rips it – not smart enough to hold the damn ticket against the counter after folding one time and RIP…… seriously it took close to 10 minutes for him to shoddily rip 6 pieces of paper. In the meantime for the full 10 minutes my suitcase is on the scale and he is looking at it.

ticket agent: Your bag is too heavy. 58 pounds the limit is 50 pounds.

Nita: the other two bags are way underweight – can’t we just call it even?

ticket agent: Nope

Nita: how much to add the 8 pounds?

ticket agent: $100

Nita falls over throwing a fit (not really).

ticket agent: Just put 8 pounds of stuff in your Moms bag then it is all even. (like my Mom wants my dirty panties in her bag – yuck).

The fucker agent made me take the bag off the scale to transfer the items (previously the airlines would let you pull out the 8 pounds and transfer it instead of guessing like we did) and put them in my Mom’s bag. So once we guessed mine down to 50 pounds he tossed it on the convayer belt without even letting me lock the damn thing up. There was a 700$ purse in there with no lock on it! Ugh.

Now, I totally understand the weight restrictions (my father busted his back as a baggage guy all his life) but seriously this was a medium suitcase (not large) with nothing heavy in it. Way too many airlines have dropped the 75 pound baggage down to 50 pounds (YAY WestJet – still 60 pounds). What really irked me is he kicked us out of line so he could help other people. Hey asshole? You spent 10 minutes ripping 6 tickets – I don’t think customer service is your forte, so quit faking it. Oh and you could of told me that the bag was overweight since it sat on your scale for 10 minutes while you ripped the 6 tickets.

We finally get to the gate to see out flight is delayed 30 minutes. Not too big of a deal but we have under an hour in Denver to make our connection to HickVille City – and the ground crews in Denver are not exactly known for getting your plane to the gate on time either. It is already starting to look like we will miss our connecting flight.

Stewart (being an Air Traffic Controller) stands in line for the gate agent to find out what is going on and if we can rebook out connecting flight for a later time that night (or the next morning). After standing behind another customer (who is slightly stupid, fakes not knowing English and is rude as well) from HickVille City who needs to get the same flight info; the staff gets fed up with him and closes the wicket right in front of Stewart. During this time Stewart hears them blaming the delays on Air Traffic Control. This royally pisses Stewart off since he knows better. ATC does not delay aircraft; over-scheduled Airlines in over-scheduled Airports cause flight delays. By blaming delays on Air Traffic Control airlines do not have to be responsible for providing you compensation (or hotels overnight) if your flight is screwed up. Convenient hey?

Finally we board the plane. I am sitting in row 12. The cabinet that houses the drop down oxygen mask over my head has opened and the man beside me is trying to close it. We all know that this will cause further delays if a flight attendant notices it. They notice it. Now we have a mechanical delay (25 minutes) which now makes the airline liable for our hotels in Denver that night. Small YAY!

A mechanic shows up with no tools to fix it, and we joke with him to duct tape it closed. He says he can not do that and goes to get “clearance” to do a repair. Guess what the repair was? Tape. Didn’t stick but whatever – I got moved to upgraded seating. After that we sat on the runway for some time for the “paperwork” to show up so the plane can take off.

When we got to Denver we electronically got our tickets for the next flight that was available (the next morning) and headed to United Customer Service to see what if any compensation was being offered for the night.

The staff was awesome and pretty organized considering almost 100 people missed their connections. We were sent to a pretty nice hotel in Denver and given vouchers for breakfast the next morning. Since we would not get our luggage back (it was going to take 4 hours to get it) they provided toiletry kits with everything you need to not smell funky the next day. Needless to say we had to sleep naked that night (which seriously I do not do naked) but overall it was pretty good (except for the pussy ass cab driver to the hotel).

So what did I learn?

• Flying out of Las Vegas on any American airline is a gong show.
• Denver seems to be a nice city – I think Stewart and I will do a mini holiday there soon.
• Flying when pregnant and still fighting morning sickness = not too fun.
• I need to wear more comfortable shoes in Vegas.

Next Post: about the shoes…..

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Buying Some Sanity $25 at a Time.

A few weeks ago, on a peaceful quiet Saturday night I had some time to myself. My Mom (Danielle) had The Dictator for the night under the assumption that I was going to an adult birthday party, which I fully intended to go to until a massive freak spring snowstorm hit. No way was I driving to a different town on those roads so I ended up staying home in an empty house until midnight when Stewart came home from work.

What did I do with the 7 hours alone? Pedicure, bubble bath or do my hair? Watch a chick flick? Read? Nope. I caught up on all that stuff that never gets done all at once around the house. I cleaned bathrooms, washed floors, vacuumed (even though that is Stewart’s job), prepped a nice dinner for the night, emptied the dishwasher, ironed all the laundry, washed and put away 3 loads of clothing and bathed the dog. It was a productive night for me, and usually things never get done in bulk like that around the house. Like any mom I get what I can done during The Dictator’s nap and sneak 45 minutes to myself – but that means there is always a list to tackle and that I never feel finished.

The best part of getting all this stuff done is that for almost a full week I felt caught up. I lost that clusterfucked feeling that I tend to get when I see a full dishwasher and the dryer is buzzing at the end of the cycle. I had the mental capacity to prepare decent meals every night that week because I wasn’t running around during nap time trying to make the house presentable; naptime was a chance for me to prep a great dinner and start some of the cooking. I played with The Dictator more because I wasn’t trying to sneak 5 minutes to fold laundry and empty the dishwasher. These little things really changed how I felt about my day and how my day would inevitably go.

This last week the clusterfucked feeling has returned. I have no desire to cook and I feel like I am not caught up again. That brought me to thinking that if I had help one morning a week (not relying on the Grandparents for this one – they help me so I can work 2 days a week when Stewart can’t be at home) I would feel more in control and caught up around the house. I thought of hiring a maid service – but really that could run us $500 a month and to me I would rather put that money into our mortgage payments.
Enter Bonnie

Bonnie is a 14 year old darling girl who adores The Dictator and loves to babysit. She lives by us and has siblings that are much younger then her, so she is great with little kids. Bonnie even stops over some evenings to play with Emmett after dinner, and she wears him out chasing him around the yard. I watch her pick him up when he falls, hug him when he is upset and steer him away from danger (which is his middle name). I adore her and her family – they are really great.

I really have no need for a babysitter and quite honestly I don’t like leaving The Dictator with anyone other then the grandparents. BUT, I sure could use a Mother’s Helper one morning a week from 9am to 1pm while I get all that stuff done around the house and get a dinner started. So this week I am going to see if Bonnie is interested in helping out with The Dictator one morning a week (during the summer break -and maybe a weekend day in the winter) while I am at home getting caught up around the house.

This could be my sanity saver and make me a better mom too.

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Hypocrisy and the Evil Trifecta

First is a confession. I am a hypocrite.

Now for an important announcement brought to you by The Dictator.

We will be welcoming The Deuce into our family around December 3, 2008. Feel free to show up a bit early Deuce, since your older brother was almost 2 weeks late.

I have spent the past four weeks battling at least one of the evil trifecta of pregnancy at any one time. Fatigue, nausea and irritability; I am your bitch. Smells and meat totally gross me out right now, yet for some reason I have a painful craving for Panago pizza. Chicken Club no tomatoes and Tropical Hawaiian to be precise. I went a full pregnancy with The Dictator without a single craving. The craving things that are not in your house thing just is not fun. Nope. Not at all.

Currently I have the fear of twins, that could be because my friend was just here with her twin boys or it could be because I have been feeling fetal movement already (at 10 weeks); which Dr. Google says can be a sign of a multiple pregnancy. Did I mention multiples run in both sides of my family? Twins and triplets. I doubt it is happening here though.

So in a nutshell I have been to lazy and pukey to post lately. But I promise I shall get better at this soon.

On the bright side, if the Canadian Food Inspection Agency needs someone to sniff out Mad Cows or rancid meat in filthy restraunts, I am your girl!

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These are my confessions…..

I love to blog, really I do. BUT, I find the Mommy bloggers out there are divided into two distinct groups:

• those who read the books (which I like to call the fear mongering books), know it all and are not afraid to tell you how to do it (this group can usually be found bitching at Linda and Kristin in the Parent Dish comment section)
• those who are getting by day by day and happily bend the rules in the books to their advantage and personal sanity

I confess I am definitely one of the latter group. Here are my confessions:

• My son had a bottle at every nap and bedtime until he was 18 moths old
• He also was on formula until 18 months old
• My son almost never slept through the night (and remember my medical specialty is Sleep!) until he was 18 months old – I got up nightly to feed him, sometimes several times (feel free to cry a little tear for Stewart and I)
• The Dictator still has a soother – though mostly at bedtime
• I let my child watch The Backyardigans so I can put away laundry
• The Dictator gets to play in the tub beside out shower while I am in the shower
• I give him chocolate sometimes to bribe him to be good
• Ditto with the gum
• And the mints
• I am excited my son likes Bologna – because he hates meat. I think deli meat is better then nothing at all….
• I have to hide vegi’s in his food to get him to eat enough
• I make many of his meals in advance and freeze them so I do not have to cook from scratch every day
• I am pleased he likes cucumbers because they are easy to make – some kids steal a banana at the grocery store to munch on. Me? I unwrap a cucumber and he goes hog wild.
• I let him have temper tantrums – because some days I have no idea what to do about them
• I threaten him with time outs when he is acting up – and usually follow through if the behavior continues
• I put tape over some of his toys speakers so I do not have to listen to the noise
• The Dictator gets to play on the deck while I stay in the house to wash dishes
• He eats ice cream most days after dinner
• I still rock him to sleep at nap time (because I like love to – not that I have to)
• He still eats baby cereal as a bedtime snack
• When we are out and about all of his snacks are usually the “pre-packaged” variety
• I add chocolate milk to regular milk on the days he refuses to drink just plain old milk
• At dinner, we have been known to give him apple juice or milk in a small wineglass so he won’t ask for our wineglasses

I am sure I could add way more to the list. For the Moms out there what are your parenting confessions?

And to round it all up – a personal confession of my own.

• Some days I drink wine at 9am after a long night shift at work before heading off to bed.

I am an awesome Mom, really. Just ask my adoring son 🙂

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