Showing posts with label Kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kids. Show all posts

Monday, July 5, 2010

Alone Time, Anyone?



I relish my alone time. Is that wrong? I feel like almost every moment of my day is shared with someone else. Not just my time, but my body. When you have kids, it's like your body doesn't belong to you anymore. Beginning with pregnancy, you feel odd kicking and poking and rolling and it's wonderful, but it takes over your body. After they are born you are breast feeding and even if you don't, you are still holding the baby all the time. I used to love to cuddle and I still do but sometimes I just want my body all to myself. Sometimes I just want to take a shower without someone peeking around the corner. I want to go to the bathroom without an audience. I want to sit and read without a child (or two or three) sitting on top of me. I want to have a night's sleep with no one but my husband and I in the bed. Then my husband gets home and wants a piece of me and I just have nothing left for him.

The thing is, when I am alone, I feel like I am missing a limb or something. The fact is you can never go back to who you were before you have kids, or even a husband. Sometimes I feel like my body belongs to him as much as it belongs to me. And after ten years together, his body is as familiar to me as my own.

When the kids aren't here I don't quite know what to do with myself. When they go to bed, unless I'm writing, I don't do anything productive. I just sit and enjoy being alone or with Van. When you are a stay-at-home mom, you sort of define yourself by your kids. You plan your life around them because they are your life. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to work and leave my kids all day. I think if I was doing something I love it would be easier, but I think my life would be less fulfilling for sure. The truth is I really love my kids and love spending my days with them. Although I never planned to be a stay-at-home mom (I guess now I am technically a "work-at-home mom"), I don't think think I would be truly happy doing anything else.

So I guess what I am saying is I just need some freaking alone time a little more often!

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Dear Complete Stranger At Target...



Oh, I'm sorry! Were my children's childish antics bothering you here in this public place?

So I love Target and feel a sort of proprietary ownership of it. As such, I let myself go at Target. I relax, I get a treat from Starbucks, I greet all the employees, a third of whom I know by name... I let my children have fun.

So I am Target for the third time this week. I have my two youngest, Baby Boy, (just turned) 4 and the Diva, 20 months. I am looking at clothes (Target has super cute maternity clothes and even when I am not pregnant, they tend to fit me very well!) and I hear an "older lady" (think Rue Maclanahan from Golden Girls, which I will hereafter refer to her) grumbling about people controlling their children. I take a quick inventory. The Diva is happily babbling in the cart and Baby Boy is... uh oh... where is Baby Boy? Oh there he is, hiding in a clothing rack. He peeks his head out from between some particularly hideous blouses in the plus sizes section which is where Rue Maclanahan is evidently having her day ruined by Baby Boy's adorable antics. I should have whipped out my camera and taken a picture. He was so proud of himself and his clever hiding place. He even smiles at Rue Maclanahan. I smile at her apologetically, thinking, "That smile melts me every time. It's got to work on Rue!" Rue Maclanahan is not amused.

"Have you seen those leashes they make for children?" She asks. She actually said this to me.

At this point I should probably divulge that I am a fan of telling off complete strangers who I feel are out of line... usually when I am in a bad mood or it is a certain time of the month.

(WARNING: LONG SIDE STORY ALERT) Once, in a department store, I realized I had forgotten my stroller. I had all three kids with me and was in a very foul mood. I went looking for a store stroller/cart and there were none to be found. I walked around the store hoping to find an abandoned stroller. I kept seeing people without children pushing strollers full of purchases. Every time I saw one I got more irritated. I spotted an older lady (think Betty white from the Golden Girls) chatting a make-up counter with nothing but her purse in the seat where my baby's butt should have been. I stalked up to Betty and said (I thought politely) exaggeratedly juggling the baby, my purse and holding Baby Boy's hand, "would you mind giving me your cart since you don't have any children with you and I have three?" Betty looks me up and down and then looks at the pancake-faced sales girl incredulously. "Um, no." That's all she said before she turned back to pancake face and rolled her eyes. This pisses me off to no end.

"Those strollers are meant for people with children, not for people who don't feel like carrying their purses!" I say. Betty looks around.
"Aren't there any other carts in the store?" She asks. As if I came into the
store and targeted her for harassment.
"If I could find one," I say "I wouldn't be standing here asking you for your help." stressing my need for help.
"Well," she says "my purse is very heavy and I have a bad back."
"My baby is very heavy," I counter "and I don't want to drop her."
I stalk off, knowing the battle is lost. Freaking Betty.

Back to my recent target story.
"Have you seen those leashes they make for children?" Rue has just asked me.

Trying to get over my incredulity, I stumble.
"Oh, did those work for your children?" I ask.

It's Rue's turn to stumble.
"Oh, no...I don't have any children. I've just seen those leashes and they seem to work pretty good."

My eyes widen. She doesn't have children? Then why the hell does she feel qualified to give me advice?! I quickly recover.

"I think leashes are for dogs, not humans. And my son isn't hurting anyone, he's just being a kid." I say. "Maybe you would get that if you had children of your own."

Rue Maclanahan stalks off.

Afterword I think. I feel kind of bad. Maybe she was incapable of having children? Maybe she lost a child. I would feel truly bad if this were the case. But she said "I don't have any children" clumsily. Not "I never had any children" sorrowfully. On this point I console myself.

Whatever. In either case, she is not qualified to give me child-rearing advice. Even if she were my crazy spinster Aunt, I would still be irritated with her gall in suggesting I leash my child.

And this is my point, young or old, people who don't have children often feel compelled to offer their opinions on child-rearing. Or proclaim, "When I have children I will never let them [insert appalling behavior here]." The fact is, you don't know, you just don't know how it feels until those children belong to you. It's easy to correct someone else's children, to see their faults. It's easy to pinpoint exactly what is wrong with someone else's child-rearing philosophies and suggest your own when you've never actually put yours into practice. So there.

I hope I see Rue again at Target so I can tell Baby Boy to run over and hug her and invade her personal space like she invaded my business. Freaking Golden Girls!

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Out of the mouths of snot-nosed babes

My children don't believe in privacy, especially mine. The other day I was going to the loo and my oldest opened the door so I wouldn't feel so lonely all by myself in there, I assume.

He perches on the edge of the tub. "Wow Mom, your butt covers the whole toilet!" I suppose this would be sight for someone who has to prop himself up so he doesn't fall in, but I didn't think it a very nice comment.

"Out." I simply say, pointing to the door. "Mommy needs privacy."

My middle child has a strange fascination with my upper body. "Look Mommy!" He'll say, poking at my stomach and watch it jiggle, all the while giggling furiously. Hey, at least I can entertain him easily.

My youngest thinks blowing raspberries on my enormous stomach is the most fun ever. I, mean while, have a saliva-covered belly button. This goes on a lot longer than one would think would be fun, until I have to cut the spit-session short, tugging my shirt down and announcing it's snack time.

Big Girl