When *headdesk* becomes a way of life... one winds up with a perpetual headache and needs a larger stash of vodka.
The two year old is now in a big girl bed and is potty training. The second is going quite well - we're down to 2-3 pairs of wet undies/day. The first is an unmitigated disaster; she is entirely too thrilled with the freedom. As a result, the girls aren't getting to sleep until at least 10:30 (they go to bed at 7). I'm concerned how this will play out once the five year old starts Kindergarten in a week and a couple days.
Said five year old is doing her level best to drive me stark raving mad. This little cutie said to me, as we all ate breakfast and I didn't get the food in the baby's mouth quick enough to suit the baby, "well, if my baby were crying, I'd pay attention to him." Yeah. She ignores every instruction she doesn't want to hear, wails like a banshee and/or ignores her punishments, and is generally as disrespectful as a teenager (actually, I think that may be an insult to teenagers). Pass the fermented potatoes - hey, it can be mixed with OJ; that makes it breakfast appropriate, doesn't it?
Random other things:
Newington schools says "no kids" for Open House but insists on their presence at parent-teacher conferences.
I have all of 2 social events scheduled in all of August that don't involve kids. They're the same night.
I'm loaded with ideas to blog about during the day when I don't have time to access the computer but my mind goes curiously blank in the evening.
I need to start being creative again. Not making is killing me slowly.
~~~
"Ladies Who Lunch", Company, Stephen Sondheim
http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/company/ladieswholunch.htm
Showing posts with label frustration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label frustration. Show all posts
Jun 22, 2010
And he'll be in line at the Gates, people still standing in his way
Got a call from the PPC office - they need to reschedule my audition to next Wednesday or Thursday. Nothing like stretchin' the stress out, I always say.
~~~
Jay Brannan, "On All Fours", Goddamned
~~~
Jay Brannan, "On All Fours", Goddamned
Aug 25, 2009
::Smacks Head in Frustration::
You'd think I'd learn. After all, I've been part of my family for 42 years. But I never do. Sometimes, I am just a fucking idiot!!
Someday, someday I will learn not to comment... on anything.
Someday, someday I will learn to just take what I am offered, whether I need/want/can use it or not, and stuff it in a box or give it away.
Someday, someday I will learn to not offer any details of my personal life.
Someday.
Someday.
Someday, someday I will learn not to comment... on anything.
Someday, someday I will learn to just take what I am offered, whether I need/want/can use it or not, and stuff it in a box or give it away.
Someday, someday I will learn to not offer any details of my personal life.
Someday.
Someday.
Aug 4, 2009
Mothering Fail
So, today, we're trying a new experiment.
Whereas Katie can't be trusted to sleep in the guest room, and
Whereas putting her and Evie in the same room for nap was an unmitigated failure, and
Whereas she clearly isn't getting enough sleep,
Now, therefore, she is lying in a little blanket bed on the living room floor under my reluctantly watchful eye. She has a stack of books and a big stuffed animal. I'm playing new agey meditation music on the computer.
So far, I've had to remind her of the no-talking rule 6 times. She's been (sort of) down 10 minutes.
The sleep thing is getting to be a real issue because her behavior is exponentially worse when she's tired. She's 10 times as sassy, 10 times as defiant, and 10 times as disobedient. Given that she's really rather sassy, defiant, and disobedient in the first place (well, she is almost 4!), it makes for days filled with parenting crises of confidence.
I get tired of spending what feels like 90% of my time yelling at her. It's not fair to her. It's not fair to Evie. It's not fair to me. I don't like my household to be wreathed in such negativity but I also know it's my job to civilize my child. I can't release her out into the wild without such things as manners, knowing when to shut the fuck up, how to be considerate to others, yada yada yada.
This boils down, at this point, to teaching her that disobedience has a price. The trick, however, is proving to be finding the price that will make her realize it's not worth it.
Take picking up. I know, for a fact, that the child is perfectly capable of picking up; she's done it on multiple occasions. Sure, things may not always be in the most logical or "proper" spot afterward but, hey, she's 3. But, like most of us, she'd far rather play than pick up. Now, just so you know, I don't expect her to remember to pick up. She gets reminders - several - and some direction in how to go about it (even though she's proven she can do it without direction when she wants).
So, in comes Sol, the Pick Up Fairy. (Personally, I always imagined the Pick Up Fairy to be a girl - my husband, however, insists the PUF's name is Sol (for S.O.L.). Makes for an interesting visual since it's already been established that the PUF wears striped tights. Of course, it does explain the bowler hat - it covers his bald spot.) Sol recently added our house to his rounds. After Katie goes to bed, he comes and takes the toys she's left out. Some, he'll let me put away for Evie, some go off to Ukrainian orphanages. Sounds like it'd be a pretty good incentive to pick up, right? Yeah. So did we. So far? Not so much. We get a lot of "well, I didn't like that anyway!" and "I don't want it!" Yeah, she does the martyr thing. I absolutely hate taking my child's playthings away but, if she refuses to even make the attempt to take care of them, she doesn't deserve them. It usually leaves me on the verge of tears.
Another constant is refusing to put on her shoes. She knows how. She's actually quite good at it. But, if she doesn't feel like putting on her shoes, she refuses to. She'll sit there like a lump. Like after swimming class yesterday. Despite the pavement being "too hot!!!", would she put them on? No. She wound up having to go to bed without supper as soon as we got home. It seems an overreaction to the situation, I know, but it's so much bigger than the shoes. Because, basically, it all boils down to this: Do what you're told when you're told. And she doesn't... consistently, unremittingly doesn't.
Ironically, my 15 1/2 month old is far more obedient that Katie has ever been. She'll even willingly help pick up, she holds her foot out to have her shoes put on, she tries to help when we dress her (all three things, Katie never did). It gives me a little hope. Because, otherwise, I feel like a total failure as a mother.
Oh, by the way, now, 1/2 hour into naptime, she's had to move to her time out spot for the remainder of nap (with blanket, pillow, and stuffed animal) because she simply wouldn't stop talking.
Whereas Katie can't be trusted to sleep in the guest room, and
Whereas putting her and Evie in the same room for nap was an unmitigated failure, and
Whereas she clearly isn't getting enough sleep,
Now, therefore, she is lying in a little blanket bed on the living room floor under my reluctantly watchful eye. She has a stack of books and a big stuffed animal. I'm playing new agey meditation music on the computer.
So far, I've had to remind her of the no-talking rule 6 times. She's been (sort of) down 10 minutes.
The sleep thing is getting to be a real issue because her behavior is exponentially worse when she's tired. She's 10 times as sassy, 10 times as defiant, and 10 times as disobedient. Given that she's really rather sassy, defiant, and disobedient in the first place (well, she is almost 4!), it makes for days filled with parenting crises of confidence.
I get tired of spending what feels like 90% of my time yelling at her. It's not fair to her. It's not fair to Evie. It's not fair to me. I don't like my household to be wreathed in such negativity but I also know it's my job to civilize my child. I can't release her out into the wild without such things as manners, knowing when to shut the fuck up, how to be considerate to others, yada yada yada.
This boils down, at this point, to teaching her that disobedience has a price. The trick, however, is proving to be finding the price that will make her realize it's not worth it.
Take picking up. I know, for a fact, that the child is perfectly capable of picking up; she's done it on multiple occasions. Sure, things may not always be in the most logical or "proper" spot afterward but, hey, she's 3. But, like most of us, she'd far rather play than pick up. Now, just so you know, I don't expect her to remember to pick up. She gets reminders - several - and some direction in how to go about it (even though she's proven she can do it without direction when she wants).
So, in comes Sol, the Pick Up Fairy. (Personally, I always imagined the Pick Up Fairy to be a girl - my husband, however, insists the PUF's name is Sol (for S.O.L.). Makes for an interesting visual since it's already been established that the PUF wears striped tights. Of course, it does explain the bowler hat - it covers his bald spot.) Sol recently added our house to his rounds. After Katie goes to bed, he comes and takes the toys she's left out. Some, he'll let me put away for Evie, some go off to Ukrainian orphanages. Sounds like it'd be a pretty good incentive to pick up, right? Yeah. So did we. So far? Not so much. We get a lot of "well, I didn't like that anyway!" and "I don't want it!" Yeah, she does the martyr thing. I absolutely hate taking my child's playthings away but, if she refuses to even make the attempt to take care of them, she doesn't deserve them. It usually leaves me on the verge of tears.
Another constant is refusing to put on her shoes. She knows how. She's actually quite good at it. But, if she doesn't feel like putting on her shoes, she refuses to. She'll sit there like a lump. Like after swimming class yesterday. Despite the pavement being "too hot!!!", would she put them on? No. She wound up having to go to bed without supper as soon as we got home. It seems an overreaction to the situation, I know, but it's so much bigger than the shoes. Because, basically, it all boils down to this: Do what you're told when you're told. And she doesn't... consistently, unremittingly doesn't.
Ironically, my 15 1/2 month old is far more obedient that Katie has ever been. She'll even willingly help pick up, she holds her foot out to have her shoes put on, she tries to help when we dress her (all three things, Katie never did). It gives me a little hope. Because, otherwise, I feel like a total failure as a mother.
Oh, by the way, now, 1/2 hour into naptime, she's had to move to her time out spot for the remainder of nap (with blanket, pillow, and stuffed animal) because she simply wouldn't stop talking.
Nov 3, 2007
Two Must-Dos Down
One to go - the ad book.
Today, I finished that bracelet *and* the transcription/arrangement of Quem Pastores (and got it sent off to the choir director at that!). Oh, and I got the Christmas draw slips prepped and mailed out *and* I finished all but one item on my Christmas shopping list - go me!
But I also lost my temper at my daughter, which upsets me no end - I always feel like such an awful mother when that happens. Why did I lose my temper? Sometimes two years old is VERY Two. And VERY Two is VERY trying. I know I expect too much and, really, regularly, I try very hard to control that. It's just that after being alone with her all week and then tacking Saturday on as well, I have thoroughly had my fill of a child who won't listen and blithely does whatever the hell she wants to instead of what I'm asking her to do.
God bless all the patient and loving childcare workers out there. They're saints. I ain't.
And, on the whole, it was a trying day. John was gone most all day knocking doors for the mayoral candidate, leaving me with Disobedient Girl, and then decided that a cold, windy, gray, and rainy day was a good day to open the windows and wash them. Lest you think that I asked him to wash the windows, I did not. Frankly, they weren't that bad in my book. But, no, he decided to make the house just as cold and damp as outside.
Now, he was gone a lot this week too - a couple of campaign meetings, late nights at work - and when he asked what I wanted to do tonight, I said, let's just get "grown up" food takeout and watch a movie - we haven't spent hardly any time together this week. He agreed, made a fuss about me picking which restaurant, and said he'd pick up the takeout at 8 if I'd do Katie's bath-n-bed.
So, it's 8 o'clock. He's still washing windows. I'm doing the bath-n-bed routine with Katie. It's 8:30, he's made no move to even call in the take out. I put Katie to bed. He decides to take a shower. It's 8:45, I make myself mac'n'cheese. He's still in the shower. I'm still freezing my ass off because the house is ice cold. It's 8:55, I've eaten my mac'n'cheese and washed the dishes. He's still in the shower. It's 9:05, he comes drifting down. "Are you sure you don't want take out? Do you want take out dessert?"
No, asshole, I wanted takeout when I came down from putting Katie to bed. Thus, the 8 p.m. time for you to leave. I don't want it now - it'd be at least 9:40 before you got back with it. What the fuck makes you think I want to eat dinner at fucking 9:40 at night??!! And, as for spending time together, it clearly wasn't a priority to you. Please go somewhere else. Now.
He says he'll watch Katie all day tomorrow. I'll believe it when I fucking see it. What that means, really, is that he'll wash more windows while she plays and won't notice when she toddles off to "where's Mama??" (read: make me fucking nuts again).
Men are just fucking unreliable.
Today, I finished that bracelet *and* the transcription/arrangement of Quem Pastores (and got it sent off to the choir director at that!). Oh, and I got the Christmas draw slips prepped and mailed out *and* I finished all but one item on my Christmas shopping list - go me!
But I also lost my temper at my daughter, which upsets me no end - I always feel like such an awful mother when that happens. Why did I lose my temper? Sometimes two years old is VERY Two. And VERY Two is VERY trying. I know I expect too much and, really, regularly, I try very hard to control that. It's just that after being alone with her all week and then tacking Saturday on as well, I have thoroughly had my fill of a child who won't listen and blithely does whatever the hell she wants to instead of what I'm asking her to do.
God bless all the patient and loving childcare workers out there. They're saints. I ain't.
And, on the whole, it was a trying day. John was gone most all day knocking doors for the mayoral candidate, leaving me with Disobedient Girl, and then decided that a cold, windy, gray, and rainy day was a good day to open the windows and wash them. Lest you think that I asked him to wash the windows, I did not. Frankly, they weren't that bad in my book. But, no, he decided to make the house just as cold and damp as outside.
Now, he was gone a lot this week too - a couple of campaign meetings, late nights at work - and when he asked what I wanted to do tonight, I said, let's just get "grown up" food takeout and watch a movie - we haven't spent hardly any time together this week. He agreed, made a fuss about me picking which restaurant, and said he'd pick up the takeout at 8 if I'd do Katie's bath-n-bed.
So, it's 8 o'clock. He's still washing windows. I'm doing the bath-n-bed routine with Katie. It's 8:30, he's made no move to even call in the take out. I put Katie to bed. He decides to take a shower. It's 8:45, I make myself mac'n'cheese. He's still in the shower. I'm still freezing my ass off because the house is ice cold. It's 8:55, I've eaten my mac'n'cheese and washed the dishes. He's still in the shower. It's 9:05, he comes drifting down. "Are you sure you don't want take out? Do you want take out dessert?"
No, asshole, I wanted takeout when I came down from putting Katie to bed. Thus, the 8 p.m. time for you to leave. I don't want it now - it'd be at least 9:40 before you got back with it. What the fuck makes you think I want to eat dinner at fucking 9:40 at night??!! And, as for spending time together, it clearly wasn't a priority to you. Please go somewhere else. Now.
He says he'll watch Katie all day tomorrow. I'll believe it when I fucking see it. What that means, really, is that he'll wash more windows while she plays and won't notice when she toddles off to "where's Mama??" (read: make me fucking nuts again).
Men are just fucking unreliable.
Aug 1, 2007
Don't Judge Me and I Won't Judge You, Sister.
Got my laptop shipped out for repairs today (you may have noticed that there are spaces in this post ;-) ) Should be back in about 3 weeks (week out, week there, week back). Working on the desktop now - short on programs but moderately functional as long as I don't need to do any web-work or connect to my server for my contract administration job.
In other gripes (yes, I'm whining again!)... My sister thinks I'm depressed. She's full of shit. I'm not depressed; I'm overwhelmed with everything I have to do. I've got 2 businesses, a half-time job, and am a full-time mom hopped up on fertility drugs. Her response to that is that other people have other stuff that fills their time and they don't get overwhelmed. Well, I'm sorry - somehow I don't see filling one's time watching the nightly lineup on cable whilst having a well-earned margarita as being terribly overwhelming! She works fulltime and her kids are in daycare. She can go to the doctor's in the middle of the day by herself. She can have her nails done on lunch - by herself. She can drive in her car - by herself. When I talked to her, she was on her way to the gym - by herself. I would not trade my daughter (or any other children we manage to have) for the world but 24/7/365 gets a little oppressive and I am heartily sick and tired of people who work fulltime, don't have primary childcare responsibilities, and get their evenings to themselves because they're not working at night thinking my life is a bed of fucking de-thorned roses.
I think it all comes down to the fact that society in general doesn't see being a stay-at-home parent as being work. Somehow, the fact that they have to pay people to do what I (and others) do daily for longer stretches for free never seems to occur to them. That, for some, what I do daily is a career, albeit a very poorly paid one, never enters into the collective conscience.
I think a mitigating factor is her guilt about not being home with her kids (she's stated that she wants to stay at home with them a number of times) and, by putting me down, it makes her feel better. Whether that holds for the general population, I don't know; I suspect it does.
SmileyDad is right, of course, in his comment on my immediately prior post: there are much worse things that could be happening to me. But, somehow, it's the ducks that nibble me to death.
In other gripes (yes, I'm whining again!)... My sister thinks I'm depressed. She's full of shit. I'm not depressed; I'm overwhelmed with everything I have to do. I've got 2 businesses, a half-time job, and am a full-time mom hopped up on fertility drugs. Her response to that is that other people have other stuff that fills their time and they don't get overwhelmed. Well, I'm sorry - somehow I don't see filling one's time watching the nightly lineup on cable whilst having a well-earned margarita as being terribly overwhelming! She works fulltime and her kids are in daycare. She can go to the doctor's in the middle of the day by herself. She can have her nails done on lunch - by herself. She can drive in her car - by herself. When I talked to her, she was on her way to the gym - by herself. I would not trade my daughter (or any other children we manage to have) for the world but 24/7/365 gets a little oppressive and I am heartily sick and tired of people who work fulltime, don't have primary childcare responsibilities, and get their evenings to themselves because they're not working at night thinking my life is a bed of fucking de-thorned roses.
I think it all comes down to the fact that society in general doesn't see being a stay-at-home parent as being work. Somehow, the fact that they have to pay people to do what I (and others) do daily for longer stretches for free never seems to occur to them. That, for some, what I do daily is a career, albeit a very poorly paid one, never enters into the collective conscience.
I think a mitigating factor is her guilt about not being home with her kids (she's stated that she wants to stay at home with them a number of times) and, by putting me down, it makes her feel better. Whether that holds for the general population, I don't know; I suspect it does.
SmileyDad is right, of course, in his comment on my immediately prior post: there are much worse things that could be happening to me. But, somehow, it's the ducks that nibble me to death.
Jul 30, 2007
equipment.failure.and.behavioural.vortex
On.Saturday,.my.credit.card.machine.died.in.the.middle.of.the.show.I.was.doing.
On.Sunday,.my.normally.reasonably.well-behaved.daughter.ripped.the.drapes.down.in.a.restaurant.
Today?..You.may.have.guessed.this...the.space.bar.on.my.computer.died...Copying.the.hard.drive.tonight.so.I.can.send.it.for.warranty.service.tomorrow.
ARGH!
On.Sunday,.my.normally.reasonably.well-behaved.daughter.ripped.the.drapes.down.in.a.restaurant.
Today?..You.may.have.guessed.this...the.space.bar.on.my.computer.died...Copying.the.hard.drive.tonight.so.I.can.send.it.for.warranty.service.tomorrow.
ARGH!
Jul 5, 2007
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