Here I Go Again

What's that?  What's that, you say?  The title of this post is the same as a Whitesnake song?  IT IS?!?  Well, thank god.  I have so much in common with Whitesnake.

Anyhoo...

I dropped off the face of the earth there for a second.  Whoops!  Caught the edge though, so all is well in SquishyLand.

I got sick.  And I took on a big new job at the Big One's preschool.  And I'm looking for an actual paying job again.  (Did I ever mention that the part-time super awesome great paying tutoring gig that I loved got killed?  It did.  A state educational waiver killed it.  And my super awesome great paying job that I loved.  Dead.  Gone.  Damn it.)  And also I have two small boys who ALWAYS NEED SOMETHING RIGHT NOW GIVE IT TO ME NOW.  So, that stuff kept me busy.  I'm back, though.  Hi!

So, the getting sick part.  That part is lame.  Like super lame.  Like extra super double lame.  Know why?  Because parents are not allowed to get sick.  More specifically (and sexist-ly), MAMAS are not allowed to get sick.  Because there is no rest for the weary mama.  There is a little more rest for the weary dada because they usually come down with a man-cold, which can only be survived in the following fashion:

Poor little bunnies.

Anyway, babies and laundry and dishes and meals and toddlers who NEED everything all the time do not stop because you feel like crap.  In fact, sometimes they like to ramp it up when you're sick, just to be little assholes.

I'm mostly all better (apart from the periodic disconcerting hack of a 90 year old smoker), but I was sick off and on for a couple of weeks.  And it was annoying.  I was not dying.  I was not in need of a doctor.  I was not even sick enough to warrant much of a change in our daily routine.  But I was sick.  And it was hard.

5 Reasons It Sucks to Be Sick When You're a Parent:

1. Kids don't get "Mama can't __________."  Especially two kids under four.  They don't even get, "Please be more patient with me" or "Please give me extra time to do stuff" or "Ow."  They only know that they still want that damn quesadilla and they want it NOW.  Snap to it, MOM.  (Hack, hack.)

2. Kids don't have sympathy.  At all.  At least, little kids my kids' age don't.  They have curiosity (Mom?  Are you okay?  No?  Huh.  Get me that toy from up there and make me a sammich and scratch my back.  NOW).  They have observations (Mommy?  Do you feel icky?  You do?  Huh.  Make me some noodles).  They will have sympathy eventually, of course, but at the ripe old age of three and a half and 21 months, they got nothin'.

3. Kids don't stop.  Ever.  Like, EVER.  They are go, go, go from before sun-up to after sun-down.  You can't rest as a parent because there is no pause in the constant motion of kidness in which you can rest.  So... you just gotta try to keep up.  While feeling like ass.  And making a sammich.

4. Getting better requires sleep.  Sleep requires that your children sleep.  I don't know about yours, but my children don't sleep enough.  So I don't sleep enough.  The end.  Enter 3 week long cold.

5. When you start to feel even slightly the tiniest bit better, it is expected that you catch up on all the stuff you couldn't do because you were hacking and snotty and exhausted.  Suddenly your only slightly better self is faced with mountains of dirty dishes and laundry and food that needs to be cooked before it goes bad.  Also, errands, phone calls and emails you didn't have the energy to complete.  Plus, KIDS!  WITH ENERGY!  WHO NEED A SAMMICH!

Being sick sucks.  Being sick with little kids sucks extra hard.  Maybe when they're in elementary school I'll teach them how to make mama some soup and bring me tissue.  Or maybe I'll just teach them to play quietly in the other room and leave me alone for a full 30 minutes.  That sounds nice.



P.S. Total random sidenote: I'm going to be changing the name of this here blog soon.  Squishy will remain, but the reference to the line in the Disney/Pixar film will not.  Because I am not that person.  And I fear I am misleading the lovely people who adore Finding Nemo, but do not enjoy it when I say fuckballs.  I'm caring like that.  Also... I'm a tad worried that if more than 10 people start reading this, I might get sued.  So, there's that.

P.P.S. Please don't sue me.

Toddler Talk, Translated.

This morning, we heard from the kids' bedroom as they were playing, "DAD!  Come here!  Come look at this train I made!"

Dad hollered, "Be there in the second!"

Big One yelled, "COME!  Hurry!  Come see!  COME NOW!!!

Dad, "In a second!"

Big One, "DAD!!!  COME NOW!"  Followed by a long scream from the Little One.

Which, translated, sounds to me a whole lot like, "Come here now, or I'll kill this baby."

Oh my god.  They totally are little, tiny terrorists.

*  *  *

Epilogue

Upon entering the room, we discovered that the Big One was not, in fact, holding the Little One at knife point.  It really was just a train.  So that was good.

All's well that ends well.

Clarification

Dear Little One,

I feel there are a few things I need to clarify with you.  Please listen closely:

* Making something fly through the air does not make it a ball.  Please stop saying, "Ball!" and then throwing things.
         Example: That little metal truck you just hucked across the table?  Not a ball.  The bit of sandwich you called a ball and then threw at lunch?  Also not a ball.

* Screeching like a psychotic monkey will not get you what you want.
        Example: When I go to change your diaper and you twist and scream that horrid scream and throw things (which are still not balls), I still have to change your diaper.  I win.

* Calling it a button does not mean you have to push it over and over and over again.
         Example: Your bits are your bits, so... I'm not trying to be bossy and I definitely want you to enjoy... things... but we do have to get things done and... there's a time and place for....  We'll talk about this when you're older.  Nevermind.

* Trying to twist out of my arms while I'm carrying you somewhere you don't want to go isn't going to hurt anyone but you.
        Example: All of the times you do this.  Quit doing this.

* Refusing to eat will not make me suddenly decide to feed you nothing but cookies and milk.
         Example: See the part about only hurting yourself.  And the part about me winning.

* While that mischievous grin of yours is killer and makes me smile every. single. time... it does not give you free reign for naughtiness.
        Example: Flashing that smile at me before you pitch your breakfast or smash the metal car into the wooden table does not excuse it.  You're still in trouble.  So just stop.  Oh, stop.  Yeah, it's cute- stop.  Ohmygod, I totally love you.



And, actually, while we're at it....

Dear Big One,

You clearly need some clarification on a few things as well.  Listen up, big fella.

* Repeating something a quadrabillion times in a progressively more irritating voice is not likely to make it happen.
       Example: Hollering from your bed at nap time, "Mommy, I need the door a little bit closed!" (meaning open) over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over...

*Just because you say, "Excuse me," doesn't necessarily mean you're excused.  Hollering over your parents as we're attempting to talk in the five seconds we have to figure out dinner is not going to help anyone.  And yelling, "Excuse me," kinda cancels out the polite, there buddy.  See previous bullet.  And just hold on a second.

*Nap time really isn't for you.  It's for me.  So it's not optional.  You do not have to sleep, but you do have to stay in your room without yelling for a full hour at least.  (Note: that does not mean you get to start yelling after the first hour.  I merely require one hour for sanity.  More will benefit all of us.)
        Example: Today when I put you down for nap, you solemnly swore that you would lie down and stay quiet.  As soon as I left the room you bounced up and down and yelled my name for 17 different things that would mean I needed to come to the room and/or get you out of bed.  "I have to pee!"  "I have to poop!"  "I need a drink!"  "What was that sound?!?"  "I need my hippo!" (which is now across the room where I threw it so you'd have to come and retrieve it.)  "I'm hungry!"  "Can I read a book?"  "I miss you."   All of that is infuriating.  Please quit it.

*Saying you "need a break" right after you've done something that you know has earned you a time out will not get you out of time out.  Nice try though.
         Example: The other day when you pushed your brother over out of nowhere and then ran as fast as your legs would carry you to the corner of the kitchen yelling, "I need a break!!!"  Nope.  Still get a time out.

*Cracking up in the middle of your tantrum, while simultaneously amusing and exasperating, will still not get you out of whatever I'm asking you to do.
          Example: Yesterday when I asked you to go potty and get your shoes on before we had to leave to pick up Daddy, and you screamed and yelled and threw yourself to the ground... and then started laughing like a little lunatic... you still had to go potty and get your shoes on.  I believe this falls under the "I win" category.  But that transition directly into mania from fury was pretty impressive, Squishman.

*Being gentle and kind and loving with your brother will always get you 4,271 points with Daddy and me.  And your brother.  Keep it up.
         Example: Today, when we got home from dropping Daddy off at school, you very sweetly and gently helped your brother take off his jacket and shoes.  Of your own accord.  It was amazing.  I love you.

Respite

The other day- for a while, a brief shining piece of day- there was peace in this house.  There was pure, unadulterated happiness.

The kids stopped fighting me and each other; we all stopped hollering and correcting and throwing and arguing and decided to enjoy each other.  To settle down in the moment and listen to comfort of one another.

The Big One was telling a story and the Little One was dancing and we were listening to music they both listened to in the first days of their lives.  I looked at both of them in their absolute contentedness and felt it myself... and found myself choking back tears.  They were tears of happiness, of gratitude, of exhaustion, of life, of unbelievable love for my beautiful family, and all of a sudden this love was so intense it was overflowing.

And then they were giggling and playing peek-a-boo together and I was (am) so thankful for this beautiful family and our life and time together.  And then we danced together.

I watch your faces grow older and smile and your laughter rings through our home, through my bones. And I am so filled with love, with recognition, with understanding of why we are where we are.