Tag: motherhood

How To Stay Calm When Everyone Around You Is Flipping Out

I’ve always thought of myself as the mellow one in the family. I’ve never, in a fit of anger, broken up pieces of wood in the basement with my bare hands, and I only backed into my grandfather’s car once when I was seventeen-years-old. I chalk that one up to being young and impetuous. Occasionally, I yell, but I consider that more like “talking loud”, and I only do it because most people around here don’t listen to a word I say.

In my opinion, every family needs a floater – a person who is flexible and who can stay fairly stable (mentally) with the ebbs and flows of life.

How To Stay Calm When Everyone Around You Is Flipping Out | TheFurFiles

Yes, in my situation, that person is me. My husband’s job is one of very high stress. He works long hours, and what he does calls for a great amount of responsibility. It’s been that way for twenty-five years. Don’t ask him to deal with young adult angst. When he gets home, he literally melts into the chair in the living room, his computer on his lap, a stack of papers by his side. His brain goes into “cruise” mode, his eyes close, and his head bobs back and forth from time to time.

I’m the one who has to be ready – sort of like a firefighter, I always say. Things are usually calm, and I can watch “House Hunters” and take my cats for walks on their leashes – fun and (what my husband calls) leisurely and almost counterproductive stuff like that – but every once in a while, the shit hits the fan, and I need to spring into action, like when somebody forgets their dance shoes and it’s minutes before the show, or worse, when someone rips their pants in front of the whole cafeteria, or worse worse, when someone gets cheated on by their girlfriend, or worse worse worse, when somebody crashes the car, or gets really drunk, or fails a major test, etc. etc.

Continue reading “How To Stay Calm When Everyone Around You Is Flipping Out”

I Had Kids And Then This Happened…

When I was younger – BEFORE children – I was different. As you might expect, physically I was different, like my belly was relatively smooth and stretch-mark free, like I didn’t have so many grey hairs, like my vagina hadn’t been assaulted by a doctor’s arm and three bowling ball-sized creatures that had passed through it.

Emotionally, I was different as well, like I didn’t worry so much about every single, itty-bitty, teeny-weeny thing.

And I bring this up now because my girlfriend wants me to go with her so the two of us can get our motorcycle license together. I’m not sure. Honestly, I feel like it would be taking a risk that I’m not ready for. My children still need me – a lot. And I know, I could walk out the door and get hit by a bus tomorrow [knock on wood], but still, motorcycles make me nervous. Not that I don’t think I’d look good on one. I would – in my leathers, and my sexy boots, because I WOULD have sexy boots. Not sure how the helmet would affect my hair though.

OK, so I was never a huge thrill seeker, but I was also never such a super cautious “I hide in the closet for most of the day” loser either. When the kids came along however, I turned into a worrywart in every sense of the word.

I worry about the most ridiculous things.

I hear a noise, and I immediately think, “OMG, a meteor is about to strike the house.” It could happen. #Chelyabinsk

I Had Kids And Then This Happened... | TheFurFiles

I worry that I haven’t turned the stove off. I think we all do that, but do we all go back into the kitchen and stare at the knobs for a good 30 seconds or so, touching and retouching them just to make sure? My husband says, “Crrrrazy.”

I worry that I’ll get attacked by a dog when I go out for a run. I saw a girl the other day – and she WAS a girl, not more than sixteen – walking these two HUGE German Shepherds. I thought, “What is she gonna do if they decide they want to rip my leg off?” That’s right, not a damn thing, and then I’d be left maimed and/or legless for the rest of my life. And I work so hard to keep my legs strong. What a shame it would be. Sadly, I’m no match for a canine that’s gone berserk.

I worry that my daughter will take food up to her room, and then choke on it while she’s in there, with no one to hear her gasp for help. I worry that I won’t find her until a day later because she hates me “in her section of the house”. Oh the scene – bugs crawling all over her poor stiffened body, a tuna sandwich halfway in her mouth, the cats eating her leftovers. I shiver at the thought. At least, I’d get to wear her clothes without anyone shouting, “Don’t touch my damn stuff.” That would be a bonus. She has nice clothes. I know because I buy them, and they cost a LOT of money.

I worry that one day I’ll just be driving along, and the earth will fall out from under me and I’ll end up at the bottom of a sinkhole. Those things are weird as hell. Shit like that should NOT be allowed to happen on this planet. I saw in the news once that a guy’s whole house fell into one. As if.

I worry that my worrying will cause shit to happen in a “create your own destiny”, negative consequence of “The Secret” sort of way.

I worry that worrying about worrying will give me a heart attack, or more grey hairs, or a stroke. My grandmother had a stroke. My grandfather had a heart attack. Both run in the family.

Holy crap, I can’t type anymore. I’m worrying that I might be getting arthritis. My grandmother had that too. OK, enough. I’m off to read Megan Hart’s Tempted. That should put my mind right where it belongs. Ah, that’s better. 😉

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Hey Kids, God Has A Message For You…

Hey Kids, God Has A Message For You... | TheFurFiles

And God said,

“Children, listen to your mother, or I’ll give her permission to…

Post a picture of YOU wearing HER underpants when you were two on YOUR Facebook wall. Guaranteed, all of your 1543 friends will think it’s frickin’ adorable.

Never give you another birthday present for as long as you live, not even a gently-used glass eye.

Take that “me so horny, me love you long time” t-shirt that you love so much and give it to your father to dry his body with AFTER he showers – his WHOLE body, if you know what I mean. Once the t-shirt’s dry again (but probably not washed), she’ll give it back. You won’t even know it was gone.

Play so many cat videos on your laptop at once that it crashes, and it takes the guys at Apple a good two weeks to fix it.

Steal your iPhone, take a picture of you while you are sleeping – hopefully naked… your father says you do that now – and send it in a private message on Facebook to that girl/guy you like so much. Why not get this relationship jump started?

Yes, Facebook really IS a great revenge too. I’m so glad I made someone think of it.”

It’s just been that kind of day already, and it’s only 10:30 a.m. Kids. [frown]

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Happy Mother’s Day, Or Something Like That

I never planned on having kids. It was never a dream of mine as a girl or a teenager. I wasn’t getting married either. But then I met my husband, and it all changed.

I Am Mother - Hear Me Roar, And Sometimes Sputter For Help | TheFurFiles

Since that first little head squeezed his way out of my vagina, I’ve stayed-at-home, worked part-time, and gone back to school twice. Except for the occasional meltdown – OK, frequent meltdown – I’ve been lucky. Everyone has been healthy (knock on wood), they’ve all done well at school, and for the most part, they are caring human beings. We’ve never really experienced too many bumps in the road – not big bumps anyway. That doesn’t mean however, that it’s been easy. I’ll never forget the first time my kids had to go to daycare/the after-school program. Whooosh, they were NOT happy. My daughter especially.

“Remember when you sent me there?” my daughter says every time we drive past the dreaded Children’s Castle Daycare. (We still live in the same neighbourhood.) I’d gone back to school for the first time to study architecture. She was four. I don’t think it was as bad as she makes it sound. It’s just that it was such a huge change for her. “Yeah, I hated that place,” she says. “They made us do the weirdest things, like they told us that we couldn’t have our dessert unless we ate all of our sweet pickles. And then they made us brush our teeth by swishing milk around in our mouths. Doesn’t milk have sugar? It’s probably why I had so many cavities as a kid.”

“OK, I get it,” I always reply. “I feel guilty enough about the whole thing.” And I did feel guilty sending her there. I mean, who wants their babies to be unhappy? It was a struggle between doing something to better myself, and being there for my children every second of every day. Looking back, I’m glad I did what I did. I agree with whoever said that a person has to be happy with themselves in order to be a good parent. Besides, my kids got (and get) more of me than most.

Being a mother is tough, no doubt. It pulls a person in so many different directions. It can make you happy, sad, frustrated, embarrassed, and both angrier and more full of joy than you ever thought possible. And tired. Did I mention just how tired being a mother can make you? Like exhausted. Like completely spent. Like almost unable to function. Like you’ve been hit a truck, and dragged down the road about a hundred miles, and then run over – back and forth, back and forth – a few times, tires marks (gauges really) on your chest, your limbs are all broken, your face is pretty messed up from being scraped against the gravel, like you are pretty much unrecognizable as even a human… OK, OK, you get the picture.

Anyway, yeah. Happy Mother’s Day to all!