Wow. I'm Not Perfect. Who Knew?

Oh wait, I knew that.

I just reread last night's post and started crying. I actually considered deleting the whole post but I started this blog as an honest look at motherhood and my life, and deleting it would be anything but honest. Those were the feelings I was having in that moment. This is not a blog about being the perfect mom - a) I don't think that's possible and b) I would never have anything to write. I also know that there are women out there going through the same sort of thing, and maybe, just maybe we can commiserate and not feel so alone in the struggles. I will never delete a post just because I'm embarrassed about the feelings I was having when I wrote it.

Our kids are the two best things we've ever done. We're still getting to know the little miss as she grows and learns every day, and the little man is an awesome kid. He's excruciatingly shy with other kids or in large groups, but when it's just us or with a few friends around he's hilarious. His observations and funny little mannerisms melt my heart every single day. My heart is on a constant roller coaster between melting from the cuteness and then freezing from the whining, but I tell myself the freezing phase has to end sometime. It will likely be replaced by a lasting and all-consuming panic as he starts to gain some real independence and wants to walk to school alone or God forbid one day drive the car.

I read the last post to Mr. Awesome this morning and he's in favour of paper plates and nudity all the way. Big surprise. While nudity is fine, the paper plates will just create a lot of garbage and I'm not ready for rats to move in while we're sitting around naked. That's just not good hygiene.

In an effort to get back on track and avoid the infestation, I've already done a load and a half of laundry and the little man now has pants. I went to unload the dishwasher and I was about 12 items in when I realized it didn't get turned on last night. I was putting away dirty dishes. I am awesome. I am a freaking goddess of domestic grace. Perhaps I need to just stop and take a moment before I'm serving raw chicken and uncooked spaghetti.

I am going to set myself some manageable goals for today. Here's a start:

1. Breathe.
2. Play trains with the little man.
   
3. Take both kids for a walk (if it's not raining).
4. Finish the dishes.
   
5. Get through two more loads of laundry.
6. Make dinner.
   

I would also like to mow the lawn if it's not raining, but in an effort to curb my unrealistic and over-achieving tendencies I will leave that off the list. Maybe.

So, like I said, I'm not perfect. I'm not even close, but perfection isn't very interesting anyway. I'm just a basket case so I can be interesting for you, my readers. Yeah, that's it.

Paper Plates It Is

About a week before we left for our vacation, and over the four days since we've been home, I noticed a definite change in our house. I was managing just fine, for the most part keeping up with the never-ending laundry, dishes and general tidying. It was a chore, but it was almost all always getting done by the end of the day. Okay, maybe the next morning. I was meal planning, and a healthful and usually somewhat interesting dinner was ready by 5:30pm. Things were working.

Something has changed. I cannot keep up. It's not the vacation stuff, we had laundry in the unit and came home with just a few items left to be washed. It's more than that. The dishes are not done, there are toys EVERYWHERE and the laundry is piling up to the point that the little man doesn't have a clean pair of pants for tomorrow. I'm not even kidding. The kid will be pantsless. Thank God I can't get it together enough to make any early morning plans where he might actually need to get out of his pajamas.

What has changed? Why am I no longer capable of managing my house? There is some insidious wave of chaos seeping into our home and I can't stop it.

We have entered a new phase. If the little man isn't whining and clinging to my leg in the kitchen while I desperately try to do some dishes so we can actually eat the dinner I've managed to cobble together at the last minute now that meal planning has gone out the window, he's...quiet. Too quiet. Crap.

This USED to mean he was in his room, either dropping a bomb in his underpants in private or making a mess of his books, Megablocks, or some other fairly manageable business. No longer. He's in the bathroom throwing around toilet paper, he's in the other bathroom flushing my hair pick, he's in the laundry room doing God knows what, he's on a chair at the sink splashing water, he's letting himself out the front door... I cannot have him out of sight for a second. How the hell am I supposed to get anything done if I can't take my eyes off him?! Laundry is a fairly in and out task, but dishes and cooking require a bit of time stuck in one area. If he's not right there with me, I'm hooped. Crap.

I love my little boy and for the most part he's a funny, awesome little man that makes us laugh every day. The whining and the clinging, however, are soul-suckingly frustrating. I relish the few minutes a day where he's happily occupied elsewhere, and "elsewhere" never used to be cause for concern. Now I have two choices: increase his attachment-to-Mommy issues by basically chaining him to my leg, or let the house go into complete disrepair, eating off paper plates and living naked while I... wait, in both scenarios the house falls apart. Crap.

Why don't I catch up on chores after he goes to bed? Well, for starters, I'm pretty damned tired at the end of a can't-keep-up-with-it day. But the main reason is the little miss. God bless her, she's a good girl and I am NOT complaining (about her), but she doesn't go to sleep until at least 10pm. She's six months old now and starting to notice when I leave the room, so I can't get much done then either. Not to mention the fact that she eats NON-STOP from about 6pm until bedtime.

Where is Mr. Awesome, you ask? Mr. Awesome runs his own business, which means he doesn't have a "regular" workday schedule. Most evenings he's either out at clients or locked away in his office, fixing computers or designing websites. He works damned hard and will come to the rescue if I need it, like if the little man has woken up with another sleep tantrum while I'm feeding the little miss. Again.

It's late and I'm frustrated. I'm a control freak who does NOT like it when her house is spinning out of control. I am grateful everyday for the health and happiness of my family. I know that tomorrow is a new day and I will make some headway (is that how you spell that?) on my long list of to dos. The dishes will get done, most of the laundry will get at least washed and dried, and dinner will be made.

I just needed a rant. If it's to be paper plates and nudity, so be it.

Potty Training #2

That's not just a clever title. There was no previous post entitled Potty Training #1. This post is about poo. Let's just get that out in the open right now. And I promise you, I'm holding nothing back. This was a big day in our family and I feel the need to share. Read on if you dare, you have been warned.

Picture it: Vancouver, this afternoon. Costco seasonal furniture aisle. The little man begins to walk a bit funny, and Mr. Awesome inquires if he has to go pee. He claims he does, so Mr. Awesome grabs the folding potty seat and the boy and marches off to the restroom. The little miss and I continue our wandering, heading over to the produce section. I get a text message from my darling husband with only two words, but these two words would cause crippling panic in any parent alive.

CODE BROWN!!!

Before we go any further into this tale, let me provide a little background. The little man has been pretty successfully peeing on the potty for a couple of months now with a few accidents here and there. He has, however, refused to poo in the potty. He would prefer to drop a grenade in his underpants and then pretend it hasn't happened until we notice the bulge or smell the aroma. We diligently explain to him that poop should go in the potty, dump it in and let him flush, but the message just wasn't getting through. The good news was that they were always fairly solid and dropped into the toilet with very little mess.

Until yesterday.

For the first time ever, the little man had what Mr. Awesome refers to as "soup bum". I didn't include this tidbit in yesterday's post, but God Bless Nang Nang yet again, my mum must have changed him five times in the course of the two hours he was at her house.

We thought the tide had turned and didn't even hesitate as we set out on our bi-weekly (I'll admit it, sometimes weekly) trip to Costco.

So, given the events of yesterday, CODE BROWN took on a whole new meaning. Given that Mr. Awesome had gone equipped with only the toilet seat, he had already done his part in cleaning up the mess. It was then my job to take the little man back to the bathroom to put on his new underpants.

Fast forward a little. Mr. Awesome and I have now each made TWO trips into the Costco bathroom, the little man is in new underpants AND pants, and we have not actually had anything happen IN the toilet. We are now trying to finish our trip as fast as humanly possible, weaving in and out through the shopping cart traffic jam that is Costco on a Saturday.

We're now in frozen foods. Once again, the panicked expression crossed the little man's face. Mr. Awesome was done by this point and flat-out refused to go a third time. It was my turn and I was up to the challenge.

Given the inactivity on the toilet so far and the repeated false starts, I was pretty sure if I waited long enough we would see some action. My little man perched on his Diego folding potty seat and we waited. I offered lots of encouragement and we discussed the situation in as much detail as you can with an almost three year old.

I am sure the woman in the stall next to us was silently dying inside. This is what she would have heard:
"That's it buddy, you can do it!"
"Come on sweetie, just try and get it out."
"Oh! There you go, that's right, you can do it!"
"I can see it sweetie, come on, get it out!"
"That's so awesome buddy, I'll show you when you're done!"
"YEAH! Buddy, you did it! You pooped on the potty!"

(I was reminded of the Austin Powers scene in the bathroom where Austin says "Who does #2 work for?" and Tom Arnold cheers him on with "That's right Buddy, you show that turd who's boss!")

My little man pooped on the potty today and yes, maybe I've set my standards lower over the last three years, but man was I proud. He repeated the miracle when we got home, and seems to get just how much better it is than the trouser bombs he usually manufactures.

Never one to count my chickens before they've hatched, I will not assume we have now turned a corner in the potty training saga. We will see what happens tomorrow.

A Toddler Free Day, or God Bless Nang Nang

The little man and my mom had one of their "dates" this afternoon, which included a trip to McD's and then play time at Nang Nang's. (She was originally going to be Nan, but this is what he came up with and it stuck. Our daughter won't get a choice, as Nang Nang will be Nang Nang forever.)

I needed this day. The little man and I have spent far too much time together. He's fine as soon as he's away from me, but while he's here he's clingy, whiny, screamy...I don't know how to add a "y" to "cry", but yes, he's that too. I love him more than life itself, but I think some occasional distance is healthy for both of us. Plus our house was a DISASTER.

When our house is messy, I'm able to let it go for a while. (I have to, or I would be driven to drink by trying to keep this place clean.) I do try to keep up with the tidying and "maintenance" cleaning, but every once in a while it all gets to be too much. Just walking in my front door stresses me out. I reached this point about a week ago but haven't had a chance to get it done. My stress level has been slowly rising with every toy he brings out of his room, or that I put away again and again.

My mom had given me a gift. The promise of three full hours in which I might actually be able to get something done. Thank you Nang Nang!

I made a plan. I wrote a task list. The little miss cooperated perfectly and went down for a 2.5hr nap right when I needed her to. I put away toys, I did dishes, laundry, I vacuumed, I mopped the hardwood that covers most of our house, I cleaned counters, sinks, mirrors, appliances, I scrubbed the shower floor...I did not stop until it was done.

Half-way through my spree, my mom came in with the little man. I panicked. I wasn't ready to stop! I wasn't ready for toys to be spread from here to kingdom come again! My panicking turned out to be unnecessary, they were just picking up some movies to take to her house (next door). Phew! My frenzy continued.

When all was said and done, I felt a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. When he finally came home and the inevitable whining and crying resumed, I was able (for the most part) to deal with it calmly and lovingly. We had a fairly stress-free dinner, bath and bedtime and he was asleep by 7pm. I AM SUPER MOM!

It's amazing what a clean house can do for my stress level. I am without a doubt a nicer person and a better mom when the house is clean. You'd better believe, when I'm back and work (i.e. full salary), we are getting house cleaners in to deal with this place at least twice a month. It will never get done otherwise, and Mr. Awesome doesn't get a say in this matter. (He reads this blog, so this is my way of breaking the news.) A cleaning service is cheaper than therapy.

Until that time, God Bless Nang Nang.



On a totally unrelated matter...
Today was my weekly weigh-in with Weight Watchers. I lost 4.4lbs! That's like Biggest Loser weight loss! The thing is, I have no idea what made this week any different than any other week. Same workouts, same food tracking, same, same, same. Does it matter? Nope. I am now only 20.8lbs from my goal!! WOO HOO!

Confession: My House is a Mess & My Kid Watches TV

I was reading a post from Pampers and Pinot called "Supermom is a Myth". It made me feel so much better to know that other moms go through what I go through on any given day. Somewhere, at some point, I was led to believe that moms should be able to do it all - keep the house clean, feed the family with nutritious meals, entertain the kids with educational activities, all while working a full time job. This is an absolute lie. People pay professionals thousands of dollars to make it appear true, but no one woman can do this on her own and still maintain any sort of life balance.

Now, while on mat leave, I've been able to master the nutritious meals component of this absurd reality. Thanks to Weight Watchers, Hungry Girl and a myriad of other online sources, I actually do cook my family very healthy meals. What will happen to this tradition once I'm back at work and coming home at 5pm when the kids have to be in the bath by 6:15 is anyone's guess. But meals are really where my accomplishments end.

My house is a disaster. There are toys everywhere, dirty dishes on the counter, a pile of laundry in the bedroom, piles of papers to be attended to "one day"... and believe me, this is all not for lack of trying. With the addition of our 4 month old daughter and my almost 3yr old's new potty training adventure, LAUNDRY NEVER STOPS. I am wearing a groove in the hallway from all the trips back and forth to the laundry room. The dishes never seem to reach that magic point where ALL the dishes are clean at once. I don't actually believe that point exists.

My husband, God bless him, works from home. This is not always as fabulous as it might seem from the outset. Yes, he is often there to take over when Mommy is about to lose her mind, or if I'm busy feeding the baby when our son announces he has to pee right then and there. On the other hand, as a self-employed computer consultant, his work could happen at any time, whenever a client needs him. He doesn't have standard days off each week to take the kids while I run around like a madwoman cleaning the house. There is no consistency to when I might have a precious pocket of time to clean the bathroom. As a result, I feel like I'm doing housework all day long, running to switch over laundry or wipe down a counter while the little man is otherwise occupied with his toys or something on (gasp) TV.

Yes, he watches TV. Admittedly, he probably watches too much TV. He also goes to preschool, swimming lessons, plays outside, goes to the park, goes for walks, colours, plays with his HotWheels, plays in forts we build...if throwing in "Cars" or "Up" for the 7 billionth time means I might get a few minutes of downtime, then by God I'm going to do it.

Judge me if you will. I'm sure the nice people at Disney/Pixar think I'm just swell.