But it's Mothers Day!!

My fantasies about this Mothers Day were similar to past Mothers Days. I would wake up to my daughter's smiling faces and enjoy a day with them that strengthens all of the reasons I became a mother in the first place and would end blissfully with a huge grin on my face. It turned out to be another Mothers Day where I was reminded that fantasies are fantasies for a reason and if I was expecting special treatment I just better get over myself. This should have come as no surprise to me since I cannot recall one that went as planned.

Last year while enjoying an amazing brunch at Capitol City Garage, my favorite, Olivia had to be escorted out by my hubby. which means that he had to carry her out while she screamed I hate you at the top of her lungs, I had a few extra Mimosas that day. This morning carried it's own special reminders of what it really is to have kids. As I enjoyed my first couple of bites of breakfast in bed I was given quite a guilt trip by Olivia as she asked me "Am I going to get breakfast today or do I just have to watch you eat it all?" Well Happy Mothers Day to you too!! Then my precious four month old was carried in to greet me and surprised me with her typical puke stained kisses, like I should have expected anything else. There were also some fun tantrums in the middle of Target but hey like I said before I better just get over myself.

Through all of this I experienced the expected frustrations and the desire to shout "But it's Mothers day!! Don't you have to be nice to me!?" Then I remembered that it's really just another day, puke and tantrums included. I also have to remember that the reasons I became a mom have very little to do with special holidays thanking me for it. As I sit here with Olivia banished upstairs for the rest of the night which just means that she gets to yell requests across the house now, I'm reminded that there is nothing perfect about motherhood. My rewards don't come packaged up in special days with perfect attitudes. They come in their little faces and ridiculous smiles along with the mommy I love yous sprinkled in. When I go in their rooms at night and watch them sleeping it feels like everyday is a gift and that is all I really need.

I got it from my momma

My mother and I have not always been the best of friends. It is fair to say that I went through my share of the "I hate my life and myself and it is all of your fault" phase. We had a rough go of it growing up and in my immature teenage mind I felt as though SHE should have prevented all of our unnecessary, as I saw it, pain and discomfort. It wasn't until the birth of my own daughter that it hit me. This parenting thing is f@#ing hard and my mom is a rock star. I figured out that while my sister and i were enduring the pain and hardships of our childhood she was protecting us from her own and patching our wounds. She was left alone with two daughters and quite the mess to clean up all while trying to heal from things I still have a hard time imagining. When I thought she was isolating herself from us, she was protecting us from her own pain. When I thought she didn't care about what was important to me, that she didn't get me, she cared more then I ever realized and knew me better then I did myself.

My mom is one of the strongest and most caring people I've ever met. Yeah I know everyone says that but seriously even if she was not my mommy I would think so. She is an RN, an RN that watches people die more then she saves them. She isn't just any nurse either, she is the kind of nurse that gets to know her patients and goes to their funerals. She takes them on like she did her own two girls. She knows what they like and what matters to them, she gets them. She is a friend, the kind of friend you call at 2 am for anything and she is there. She gives and when I say give I mean to a perfect stranger who needs gastric bypass surgery and a cosigner and she just has to help. I can't count how many times I've heard that out of her mouth, "I have to because who else will help them." As you can imagine if this is how she treats perfect strangers, I'm a pretty lucky daughter. Not to mention the awesome attributes she has passed down to me.

The older I get the more I realize that everything about myself that I'm proud of, that I like, I see in her. When I love my own daughters I realize I'm only capable of this love because it's love that I know, the love I know from my mother. I also get my lack of patience and the "you better do it my way," attitude from her as well but hey no one is perfect. I used to try to pretend that what she thought of me didn't matter and everyday I laugh at myself for how far off I was. What she thinks of me means everything and it always has. I share things with her I would not dare share with another soul and I do this because she already knows these things, she gets me. She finishes my thoughts and hugs me before I even start to cry. In her I find an abundance of strength to be a better mom and wife. She doesn't owe me an apology for past mistakes but she approaches them with a sense of humility, I believe for my benefit. Because of that I'm not as scared to make my own mistakes. You know that love you have for your kids, that awesome untouchable love that feels amazing. Well imagine what it feels like to receive that love, it makes you weightless.

The part of all of this that gets me is that I realize this kind of relationship with you mother is rare. I suppose what bewilders me the most is that my own mother was never given this gift of unconditional love from a mother yet she chooses everyday to share it with me. I thank God everyday that she found it inside of herself to make a decision to be a different kind of mother. I'm not sure I could have done the same and I'm very grateful that I don't have to find out.

Guilty until proven innocent

Agonizing over guilt is something that comes along with parenthood, at least for me. Well ok I am a terribly guilt prone person. I was the only kid in my catholic kindergarten class to cry when the nun told us that Jesus died for our sins. What? My sins? My five year old self had committed sins that killed Jesus? Aside from my natural tendency to feeling irrational guilt there is the amazing amount that is forced on us as parents. One cannot help but see it all over the TV, in magazines and the oh so friendly and up in you business mom at the park doesn't help either.

I all too often find myself lying in bed at night thinking "Should I be feeding my kids only organic food? Does Olivia watch too much TV? Is she prepared for school? How about for life? Oh my God I'm a terrible mother!!" On a side note can I ask why organic food costs more if you are not using any chemicals to make it. Shouldn't I be paying more for all of the evil chemicals and fancy soil? But noooo, my organic strawberries with no chemicals that were grown in cow poop and rot quicker cost a fortune. Anyway back to the point, the guilt is endless. I feel guilty when I buy the kids something used and even more guilty when it's new because I am teaching them to expect too much. I feel bad when I teach Olivia to let go during an argument because she will become too passive. But if she stands up for herself she is too aggressive and pushy. What is a mom to do? Why do we have these unrealistic expectations for ourselves?

Nobody wants their kids to grow up and be Hitler or Charles Manson, or is that only my obsession. I find myself asking what did Hitler's mom do? What did Charles Mason's mom feed him for dinner? Oh crap it was the processed sweets wasn't it? Charles Manson ate processed sweets and so do my kids so it's inevitable isn't it? Because when kids grow up and become evil adults it always comes back to the mom. What did that screwed up mom do that poor kid is what they ask. Ok so I'm not Hitler's mom and Olivia is not Charles Manson in the making but still. This is scary stuff, keep you awake at night and obsess for hours scary. And what about all of the less dramatic and hypothetical stuff. I want my kids to be smart and enjoy life to it's fullest. I want them to know what it feels like to really love something and to feel that love from someone else. I want them to be kind and open minded to situations they couldn't possibly understand. I also kind of want them to be cool and have good taste in music, oooh and politics too.

I realize we have very little control over all of our children's choices but it would kill me to know that I did something to hold them back. When I stop and think, I mean really think about being a parent, it terrifies me. I am responsible for someones life here. The decisions I make will help to form them and shape all future relationships they have. I could really screw these girls up if I'm not careful and that blows my mind. They don't say it's the most important job you will ever have for no reason....... because it is!!! Then I remind myself to calm down and take a deep breath. My childhood was by no means perfect and I'm sure my mom didn't know what the hell she was doing most of the time and I turned out only needing a couple of years of therapy to recover. Seriously though all that really mattered was that my mom loved me, unconditionally loved me. I knew I could completely screw up and she would simply hug me and help me figure out what to do next. She loves me whole including bad temper and inappropriate sense of humour. So as guilty as I often feel I know in the end that loving my kids no matter what they do and who they become is the most important part of my job even when I don't get that back, because sometimes you don't.

So you will still obsess over what's in the kid's lunch boxes and whether they had enough mind stimulating activity today because that's what you do. Or in my case whether or not they will end up basing a CSI episode on their crimes. Being a parent involves a lot of guilt and sleepless nights. After those sleepless nights you pull yourself together and put everything you have into loving them. Even if they listen to elevator music and like George W. You take a deep breath, try your best to keep them alive and you just love them. All of them, regardless of the bad choices and mistakes. You know not to make you feel guilty or anything......

Hear me ROAR!

Assertive is not a word I would use to describe myself in many situations. Assertive with my husband, kids and Friends..... well that's a different story but I'm emotionally invested in them so it's easy, or that's my excuse. Assertive with rude waitresses, bad hairdressers and the like I am not. I'm the kind of girl that cringes when someone complains at a restaurant and that does not say a word when the manicurist is causing me great pain. See I've always felt too guilty to speak up, always put myself in their shoes. I also hate ungrateful whiners who behave as if nothing meets their standards. In all efforts to avoid this behavior I've become something worse.....a push over, a wimp! While I'm still realistic about the fact that this probably is not going to change anytime soon there is one thing I have become sure of, one thing I'm not ashamed to stand up for. My children's well being.

Unfortunately this has not always been true in the past. I've let doctor's get too rough with Olivia and put her, well us, in painful situations that resulted in 11 stitches in mommies lip as well as a trip to the ER to get that pesky bead out of her nose. I have not always asked questions about things I should have had explained to me which resulted in a lot of guilt and frustration on my part. After countless times feeling completely left out of the loop and not empowered about my daughter's care I've learned a thing or two. If there is one circumstance where it is completely acceptable to be a demanding and God forbid, whiny person, it's when it comes to being a kick ass no BS mommy.

I took O to the dentist today and the minute I walked in I got the bad mommy juju. I knew something did not feel right and it made me sick to my stomach. It didn't help that I had never seen my daughter on Valium before and while a little funny it was also very frightening to me. I decided to go back with her and when I asked if I should stay I was told, "not if you are going to baby her and make a big deal about it." Red flag number one. Still I struggled with giving them the benefit of the doubt and got the hubby to step in instead. Not ten minutes later I was being called back and informed that because she was crying they would not finish and listened to the assistant make my five year old feel guilty about being scared. I walked out with my half numbed and doped up daughter whom was crying because she kept biting her tongue. I held my composer as I walked out to the car and proceeded to break down on the way home. They treated my baby like crap and I knew it from the beginning. Needless to say we will not be returning to that place and we will be "interviewing" other dentists for the position because if you are taking care of my daughter you dammed well better try to impress me.

I'm my children's advocate, their voice. It's my job to be a pushy stubborn woman when it comes to their well being. My husband made a good point today when he explained that even if we are being unfair and not giving them a chance that's a whole hell of a lot better then compromising the girl's care. So while I might still eat cold soup with a smile on my face and tip the lady who gave me a modern mullet, I will not pacify someone who is not treating my child right. What is "right" for your child is up to you and a standard that need not be lowered to avoid making a scene. I'm a calm and patient woman in many circumstances but if you screw with my kid you will hear me roar and watch out for the claws. Oh yeah and call me Assertive if you must, I'm a mommy and it's kind of part of the job =)

What a man, what a mighty good man

Salt N Pepa sure knew the importance of finding a good man. What they fail to include in their rap is how easy it can be to forget you have a good man in the hustle and bustle of life and parenthood. Between crying babies and a sassy five year old the most my hubby gets out of me on the average day is a list of complaints. Why did you leave your dirty socks under my coffee table again? If you don't mow the lawn soon the neighbors are going to complain (and they did). Did you just feed our already hyper five year old a handful of chocolate? I'm making myself look good by not including the complaints that contain foul language and divorce threats =)

Today my husband informed me that someone had stolen a precious piece of his music equipment out of the garage. My husband is not one to value "things" but his music equipment is very important to him. He didn't throw a tantrum and spent more time trying to calm me down then complaining. The anger I felt for his loss along with his awesome attitude got me thinking about all the reasons I know that my husband is one of kind. The reasons I thank God every day that he found his way into my life. I thought I would share some of those things, mostly to remind myself of why I am one lucky woman.

As a single mom coming out of two failed relationships it was fair to say that I was less then optimistic about finding a good father figure for O. I had given it a go with a guy that already was a father and at best he and O became buddies. She didn't dislike him nor did he her but it seemed like they were a little indifferent to each other. I came to the conclusion that in my situation this was to be expected. O already had a father and the best I could hope for in a mate would be someone who was good to her and respected her place in my life. I would never find someone who would tear up just looking at her or sit up at night to watch her sleep. someone who couldn't stop thinking about her when she wasn't around. This made me very sad but I was coming to peace with it. Then I met my husband.

He and O fell head over heals instantly. He played with her constantly and embraced her as his own right away. It was obvious that this was not for my benefit, he loved her and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. I loved watching him be a father so much I couldn't wait to share another child with him. I fantasized about watching him hold his baby, about all the help I would get this time. So it came as no surprise when a week before our wedding I called him to tell him I had gotten a positive pregnancy test and he replied, f@$# yeah!! He was so excited, we were so excited we were glowing. He told everyone he knew and had this permanent grin on his face. And a couple weeks later when we realized we had lost the baby he mourned it just as strongly with me. He held me while I cried for days only leaving my side to retrieve ice cream and tissues. And when it took us nine more months to conceive Scarlet, he was by my side then too. Holding me again while I cried after every failed pregnancy test. Sharing my fear that maybe we couldn't have kids together, reassuring me that we would be ok no matter what.

Of course he was amazing while I was pregnant and doted over me constantly but it's those other times when I feel I hit the jackpot. Because it's easy to share the joy with someone. To laugh when things are great and to want to kiss you when you look radiant. It takes another kind of man to cry with you and kiss your tears even though you have horrible BO and haven't brushed your hair. Any man can play with the kids and smile at their cute faces. It takes another kind of man to laugh with you when you think you might go insane because your child has become possessed. Or is proud at the amount of poop his little girl can produce and will brag about it to a perfect stranger. These are the kind of men that Salt N Pepa were talking about, mighty good men.

So when he is embarrassing me again in public with is Russian alter personality I try to remember. When he forgets half of the things on the grocery list, always remembering to buy himself cookies I try to remember. When he has man ADD and zones out when I'm talking to him but can concentrate for hours while playing xbox I try to remember. I try to remember what it feels like to be completely abandoned by your partner when the sh@$ goes down. How it feels to make up stories about nice things he's done for you because you are too embarrassed to tell the truth, too embarrassed to admit that you cry every night in loneliness. I remember how every day my husband chooses to be a different kind of man for our family. He chooses to be the kind of father his daughters can be proud of and the kind of husband who tries to understand his crazy wife. He embodies the kind of man Salt N Pepa was talking about, he's a mighty good man.

The Curious Case of Olivia Adrianna

I thought I would start this blog with some background information on my 25....I mean five year old Olivia. My O, as I call her, had to start out life as a tough cookie. I was 19 when I got pregnant with Olivia and the news of my pregnancy, to my surprise, led to my becoming a single mom. When she was born I was 20 and even with the best intentions a 20 year old woman doesn't always know what she is doing and doesn't have an abundance of patience. She got passed around a lot since I worked almost full time and went to school which in some ways I believe benefited her a great deal thanks to an amazing great grandmother who took no small part in raising her. When she was a year and a half we moved into an apartment together which created a bond between us that only a single parent could understand. ( I would like to clear up that sadly there are plenty of married woman out there that can be classified as single mothers)

O learned to be quite independent at a very young age. She was quite a site at two years old helping mommy carry groceries from the car. She gave up her love affair with pacifiers in one day, threw away her bottles in one night and was fully potty trained within a week. She seemed to understand that it was just me and her and she was going to have to pull her wait around here if we were going to keep our sanity and get anything done. This might have something to do with the fact that she now considers herself an equal party in our household. This has caused much grief for my awesome husband and I.

O is the kind of kid who lets us know when we are wrong. Who yells out at dinner that she has a terrible life and whom has called her step father an a@#hole on many of occasion, then proceeded to inform me that while she knows this is inappropriate he really was being one and deserved it. She has given herself a time out after committing an offense with a "what are you going to do about it know" look on her face. When she doesn't want to clean up she informs me that she does not need all of these things and I can give them away, which I have no doubt that she is being serious. She demands to be heard and questions all authority often "giving in" on the pretence that she has to listen to us even though we do not know what we are talking about simply because she is our daughter which is not an easy task. This has lead to some insanity for all parties involved.

Along with O's outright stubbornness comes and amazing capacity for insight and love. She cries at thunderstorms because they are beautiful as well as animal shelter adds while she declares that "if we do not help them mommy, who will?" She tells me I'm beautiful when I'm feeling like crap and throws in the occasional, "have you lost weight mommy?" purely for my happiness. She remembers to ask her Nana is she got the job she interviewed for because she knows that Nana really wanted it. She has an amazing amount of wisdom packed into a five year old body and sometimes she has me believing that she knows a little more then the rest of us about life. So with all that said it came as no surprise to me when she asked me if we could go on a date.

It had to be somewhere fancy, somewhere we can wear high heals and dresses and have a glass of wine. When I explained to her that she could not have a glass of wine she replied, "That's ok mommy, I'll just have a beer then." We looked on the Internet and settled on the Cosmo Cafe downtown, mostly because their website had a picture of women wearing high heals. So this Friday we hoped in the car with Aunt G in tow and headed out for girls night. We had big girl drinks, Shirley temples, and enjoyed some fine dining which means that she ate the bread and one of my french fries. She told the waitress she looked beautiful and informed an older gentleman in a suit that he was handsome. We followed it up with ice cream at Dairy Queen and a sleep over with Aunt G where she had an amazing time.

While I watched her ham it up and flirt shamelessly with the water boy I realized that O is and has always been one of my best friends and favorite people. I also realized that this has very little to do with the fact that she is my daughter and much more to do with the fact that I really like her. As I would say after meeting someone new among friends, "Olivia is good people." It feels really awesome to love your kids but it feels indescribable to really LIKE them.

When did you become a mommy

Most would assume that a woman becomes a mommy the moment she pushes, or has removed, that little bundle of joy out of the internal oven it's been growing in. That would be a fair assumption but for me that moment didn't come until a little later. Now don't get me wrong, I fell in love with Olivia the minute I set eyes on her. I doted over every inch of her and of course thought she was the most beautiful baby ever born. Aside from that the word "mommy" still felt a little foreign to me. That was until one night about eight months later.

She awoke from her peaceful baby slumber with a scream that could only mean one thing.... her first ear infection. Fumbling in the dark I scooped her up in my arms and knew we were in for a long night. The baby Tylenol wasn't touching the pain and no matter what I did I could tell she was miserable. As I held her against my chest there was no doubt I would do anything, seriously anything, to make the pain stop. I cried for her while I rocked her and still swear I had sympathy pains in my ears that whole night. The next morning I rushed her to the doctor in my sweat pants without any make up on. Up until this point in my life a large man with a scary gun could not have gotten me to leave the house in this condition, I wouldn't have it. The doctor quickly diagnosed her with a double ear infection and sent us on our way with the infamous bubble gum meds. She slept much better that night.

It was that night that the term "mommy" no longer felt like a pair of shoes that you love but just don't fit right. I realized I would sacrifice anything for this little persons well being no matter how unfamiliar or terrifying. When you become a mommy all of those narcissistic, self fulfilling tendencies take a back seat. That doesn't mean you don't loose your cool on occasion and let the baby cry sometimes so you can apply that extra coat of mascara. For me it just means that motherhood feels more familiar then most tasks life throws at me. I respond quicker to being called mommy then I do to my own name. It's part of my genetic make up now and while it took a little while for me to get there, there isn't anything that could take it away. I'm a mommy and oh how sweet it is.