We all knew this was coming. Or at least I did. Two young boys at home plus pregnancy and the aftermath made the situation prime for awkward conversations. I have been fortunate to avoid the "where do babies come from" discussion. Sidestepped that one on several occasions with the simple response of "from God." Thus far that has satisfied the boys.
And then there's the one of "How does the baby come out." Again, the most simple response of "the doctor took him out" has passed for acceptable for both boys. However, Justin was very concerned about how much it would hurt me (sweet kid) and has repeatedly stated how happy he is that he is a "dude" so he doesn't have to ever have a doctor take a baby out of him. No joke, dude!
And....then there's breastfeeding. I was unsure how it was going to work this go around with two boys who would be overly aware of what is going on. When Leo was born Justin was not even 2 yet and hardly paid any attention. Not so much this time. They love to be right up in the mix. For the most part they are unfazed with the fact that Will eats from my breast. There were a few initial questions about it but that has pretty much ceased by this point. I'm not a very modest person and while I try to not to display my everything to them every day I don't go hide in another room or cover up with a cape if I am nursing Will at home even if the boys are present. Judge me if you want, but this works for me. Actually the boys seem to find my nursing Will to be a very sweet time and they like to kiss his forehead and rub his hair when he eats. I think it makes them feel like they are a part of the experience. I continue to be amazed at how loving they are towards him without a single indication of jealousy yet.
BUT, I was caught off guard a little bit tonight. Everyone was in bed sleeping (I thought). I fed Will and then balanced him on my lap while I proceeded to pump. I didn't bother to cover up because I (wrongly) assumed that everyone was asleep. Oh nooooooo. Here comes Justin. Strolling down the stairs announcing that he might throw up. GREAT. In reality he is a male and just had a little cough that he had to dramatize into a potential vomiting episode. Fortunately we were later able to resolve that issue with a cough drop. But I'm getting off track here.
So there I am sitting in my recliner with the girls hanging out.....or rather pointing out into cones as the pump sucks the life, uh ummm, I mean the milk out of me. It takes all hands to make this situation work. I'm trying to balance a 2 week old on my lap while holding two bottles. Mama ain't got another hand to find a way to cover up. But I tried. I balanced one bottle with my chin, let go of Will for 3 seconds and grabbed the new nursing wrap that my friend had just made me. Fortunately it was within arms reach. I couldn't put it on but I could at least throw it over my chest for some privacy.
Too late. I was exposed. He saw. And the questions began.
What's that noise? It's the pump.
What's the pump? It helps get the milk.
For Will? Yes, for Will.
Oh, that's how you measure it? Yeah, to measure it (because the only thing he has seen is the end result of measuring how many ounces I produced).
So, ummmm, Mom. Those things are your privates, right? Ummm, yeah, they are my privates.
So, Will eats out of your privates? Ok, I guess you could say that.
Hmmmm. If I called them boobs I would get in trouble, right? Right. We call them breasts.
Ok. So I'll just call them privates and Will eats out of your privates. Ok, let's get you a cough drop so you can just rest and go to bed.
That's enough for me, folks. Good night!
the boys
Friday, November 9, 2012
Sunday, November 4, 2012
I AM WOMAN (my roar is silent)
There is no doubt we've got some fun personalities in this family. I am sure this is made clear if you have ever met us, read a Facebook post, or any of these blogs.
For the most part I tend to like, or rather, be thoroughly entertained by the boys personalities. They are a constant source of laughter for me and one of the main reasons I started this blog. I love being able to capture their funny moments to read again later. I cannot wait to see where Will's personality will land among all of the goofiness we have going on here. Wondering if his timing will be as sharp as Justin's or if his expressions will be as adorable as Leo's. Or something way different. I can't wait to experience his personality!
Occasionally I am taken aback by a certain aspect of the boys personalities. Something catches me off guard. This was the case yesterday afternoon when Justin took us straight back to the 1950's.
So the story goes like this:
Leo: I dropped my car behind the couch.
Me: You will have to wait until Dad gets home to move the couch and get it for you.
Justin: No. No. I can get it for you. Mom can't do it.
Me: Justin, how are you going to get back there?
Justin: Ummmmm, because I'm a MAN! Mens are just stronger, mom, and they can do more stuff than womens.
Me: Oh really?
Justin: Yeah, Men like challenges. I am a man. I will get it for him. Don't worry about it mom. (He went downstairs to get his light saber sword to use in retrieving the Hot Wheel. After a few failed attempts at using the light saber to scoop it up....'cuz that's a genius manly move.... I suggested that he use it to kick the Hot Wheel all the way to the side of the couch where they can then just pick it up)
Justin: Well, womens have good ideas sometimes but men are still stronger and like more challenges. Womens try to do the easies but men really like doing the hard challenges. Boys really try to do stuff great.
Me: Women do great things too.
Justin: Well, yeah, sometimes they do. But boys are just.....ummmm.....they are AWESOME! They are better than women. But that's bragging and we shouldn't really brag so I won't say that anymore. It's just that women try to do the easies and men like challenges. Don't worry about it mom. I mean you have a baby to take care of so I'll just take care of this.
And then he proceeded to use the light saber to move the car to the side of the couch, per my suggestion. To which Leo gave him full credit for his success (no recognition for it being mom's idea).
That's about right. Typical male. It's not that Jeremy has demonstrated any overly sexist behaviors for the boys, but apparently my being home every day in my new mommy mode while Jeremy has been scrambling around the house finalizing renovations has brought out the old-fashioned male/female roles in our home. And Justin, the ever observant 5 year old, has apparently picked up on what he must see as some gender inequities in our household. Or perhaps he is just a raging sexist. It's hard to say at this point.
I mean, I get it. I'm spending more time than usual in my recliner with my feet up. I move a little bit slower as my body recovers from giving birth. I ask for a few more favors than usual. I miiiiiight look a wee bit more disheveled than usual. On the other hand their father is moving furniture from room to room with only the occasional grunt or grimace. Big whoop. Let's see him push a baby out of his body with no epidural and then follow it up with some rock hard boobs accompanied by some bleeding nipples while a tiny mouth sucks the life out of him. All on about 3 hours of sleep. How 'bout them apples, Justin? Who's stronger now? Who's up for THAT challenge? Oh wait.....am I BRAGGING too much for ya?
Here's a nice womanly idea for ya, since that's all we are good for. How about next time you kids lose a toy behind the couch you give me some credit for its retrieval. Too much to ask? Too big of a challenge for ya? That's OK. I am woman. (My roar is just silent so as to seem effortless).
For the most part I tend to like, or rather, be thoroughly entertained by the boys personalities. They are a constant source of laughter for me and one of the main reasons I started this blog. I love being able to capture their funny moments to read again later. I cannot wait to see where Will's personality will land among all of the goofiness we have going on here. Wondering if his timing will be as sharp as Justin's or if his expressions will be as adorable as Leo's. Or something way different. I can't wait to experience his personality!
Occasionally I am taken aback by a certain aspect of the boys personalities. Something catches me off guard. This was the case yesterday afternoon when Justin took us straight back to the 1950's.
So the story goes like this:
Leo: I dropped my car behind the couch.
Me: You will have to wait until Dad gets home to move the couch and get it for you.
Justin: No. No. I can get it for you. Mom can't do it.
Me: Justin, how are you going to get back there?
Justin: Ummmmm, because I'm a MAN! Mens are just stronger, mom, and they can do more stuff than womens.
Me: Oh really?
Justin: Yeah, Men like challenges. I am a man. I will get it for him. Don't worry about it mom. (He went downstairs to get his light saber sword to use in retrieving the Hot Wheel. After a few failed attempts at using the light saber to scoop it up....'cuz that's a genius manly move.... I suggested that he use it to kick the Hot Wheel all the way to the side of the couch where they can then just pick it up)
Justin: Well, womens have good ideas sometimes but men are still stronger and like more challenges. Womens try to do the easies but men really like doing the hard challenges. Boys really try to do stuff great.
Me: Women do great things too.
Justin: Well, yeah, sometimes they do. But boys are just.....ummmm.....they are AWESOME! They are better than women. But that's bragging and we shouldn't really brag so I won't say that anymore. It's just that women try to do the easies and men like challenges. Don't worry about it mom. I mean you have a baby to take care of so I'll just take care of this.
And then he proceeded to use the light saber to move the car to the side of the couch, per my suggestion. To which Leo gave him full credit for his success (no recognition for it being mom's idea).
That's about right. Typical male. It's not that Jeremy has demonstrated any overly sexist behaviors for the boys, but apparently my being home every day in my new mommy mode while Jeremy has been scrambling around the house finalizing renovations has brought out the old-fashioned male/female roles in our home. And Justin, the ever observant 5 year old, has apparently picked up on what he must see as some gender inequities in our household. Or perhaps he is just a raging sexist. It's hard to say at this point.
I mean, I get it. I'm spending more time than usual in my recliner with my feet up. I move a little bit slower as my body recovers from giving birth. I ask for a few more favors than usual. I miiiiiight look a wee bit more disheveled than usual. On the other hand their father is moving furniture from room to room with only the occasional grunt or grimace. Big whoop. Let's see him push a baby out of his body with no epidural and then follow it up with some rock hard boobs accompanied by some bleeding nipples while a tiny mouth sucks the life out of him. All on about 3 hours of sleep. How 'bout them apples, Justin? Who's stronger now? Who's up for THAT challenge? Oh wait.....am I BRAGGING too much for ya?
Here's a nice womanly idea for ya, since that's all we are good for. How about next time you kids lose a toy behind the couch you give me some credit for its retrieval. Too much to ask? Too big of a challenge for ya? That's OK. I am woman. (My roar is just silent so as to seem effortless).
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Dear Baby O'Brien
Oh my goodness. It's been about 4 months since I have written a blog post. Time gets away from me and I've been a little busy growing a baby. I started this blog a few months ago and never finished it. Now that I am nearing my due date I feel the need to get it done before the baby arrives.
Dear Baby O'Brien (or BOB as Mimi calls you),
All of the baby books and baby magazines suggest writing a sweet little letter to my unborn child and tuck it away for you to read later (like age 4 when you are a genius child and can read earlier than all of your friends.....no pressure). Some moms write poems, others keep a journal. As you will soon learn, that sort of crap really annoys me. I'm not really the touchy feely kinda mom, or person for that matter. Don't get me wrong, I love me a good snuggle and will love you unconditionally for as long as we both live, and then some. But I'm not sappy. Never have been. Never will be. Welcome to my world. Your dad calls me the Ice Queen. It's a fairly reasonable assessment.
So staying with the theme of being direct, here's just a few things I want to share:
- I wish you would stop tap dancing on my bladder. But I love you anyway. Oh lookie there. Some sappiness snuck in. Must be the pregnancy hormones. Anywho, I like tap dancing so I kind of see where you are coming from. Oh but wait, you are head down (hopefully) so really you are head butting or punching my bladder. Well, you will fit in just fine with your brothers then. Your dad has taught them an lovely little affectionate name for head butting. They call it Irish kisses.
- Several times in your life you will hear people ask me if I wanted a girl since I already have two boys. The answer is that I am perfectly happy to have a 3rd boy. In fact I prefer it. We are all set up for boys here and we already know what doing (in theory). And honestly I'm not very girly. If you were a girl I was under a lot of pressure from some of my friends to constantly put you in frilly clothes with bows on your head. Thank goodness we dodged that bullet! My only real issue with having another boy is that I am horrible at playing boy games. I can't make a car motor sound to save my life. And I have no idea what to do when playing army men or crashing cars into each other. I find myself trying to play house with them and that doesn't go over well with your brothers. But lucky for you you have two brothers and a father who will fill that roll just fine.
- I am so ready for your arrival. Mostly so that Leo will stop calling me "Big Momma" every day. (hopefully) On the other hand I will miss his very sweet little way of asking me every day "How's the baby feeling today? Is he punching you very much?"
- Actually I'm not ready for your arrival at all. I did wash your clothes already so you will have the necessities of food and clothing. You don't have a room or crib ready yet but honestly I don't think you will even notice. And if you do, you can't talk yet so my guilt will be limited to some degree. And that is really the most important thing in this equation.
- You don't have a name yet. We are getting closer. You had one for a while, Owen Zachary, and it's still an option but I found I couldn't limit myself to it so now we have 4 names to choose from and probably won't decide until you are born. That's probably the only other reason I wish that you were a girl. We have a great girl name picked out and seems we will never get to use it. Unless we decide to give you a playmate in a few years. Then you are off the hook.
- I hope you are born before Halloween because I got you super cute little Halloween outfit to wear that day. But I hope you are not born on Halloween Day.
- You will like raw cookie dough. And cookies. It's a requirement for my children. Don't disappoint me. I might disown you.
- I hope you can learn to appreciate hand-me-downs. Because all gifts for your first few birthdays and Christmas are likely to just be things we already had for your brothers re-wrapped with your name on it.
- I don't know what the hell you have done to my hair. (Oh, and I cuss.) In the early stages of my pregnancy you gave off some sort of vibe that made it oddly wavy in one spot. I thought that was bad enough. I was wrong. Somehow you are now emitting some sort of hormone that has caused a greasy spot on the crown of my head. No amount of washing or avoidance of hair products can reduce this spot. I wake up in the morning looking like I stuck my finger in a light socket with greasy spikes of hair sticking up off my head. It's as if while I sleep you are frying up some bacon in there and running it through my veins to my scalp.
So that's just a few things you should know. There are many more of course and sadly for you your learning experiences will likely be documented on this blog for current and future entertainment of myself and others.
I love you already and I can't wait to meet you!!!!
Love
Mom
Dear Baby O'Brien (or BOB as Mimi calls you),
All of the baby books and baby magazines suggest writing a sweet little letter to my unborn child and tuck it away for you to read later (like age 4 when you are a genius child and can read earlier than all of your friends.....no pressure). Some moms write poems, others keep a journal. As you will soon learn, that sort of crap really annoys me. I'm not really the touchy feely kinda mom, or person for that matter. Don't get me wrong, I love me a good snuggle and will love you unconditionally for as long as we both live, and then some. But I'm not sappy. Never have been. Never will be. Welcome to my world. Your dad calls me the Ice Queen. It's a fairly reasonable assessment.
So staying with the theme of being direct, here's just a few things I want to share:
- I wish you would stop tap dancing on my bladder. But I love you anyway. Oh lookie there. Some sappiness snuck in. Must be the pregnancy hormones. Anywho, I like tap dancing so I kind of see where you are coming from. Oh but wait, you are head down (hopefully) so really you are head butting or punching my bladder. Well, you will fit in just fine with your brothers then. Your dad has taught them an lovely little affectionate name for head butting. They call it Irish kisses.
- Several times in your life you will hear people ask me if I wanted a girl since I already have two boys. The answer is that I am perfectly happy to have a 3rd boy. In fact I prefer it. We are all set up for boys here and we already know what doing (in theory). And honestly I'm not very girly. If you were a girl I was under a lot of pressure from some of my friends to constantly put you in frilly clothes with bows on your head. Thank goodness we dodged that bullet! My only real issue with having another boy is that I am horrible at playing boy games. I can't make a car motor sound to save my life. And I have no idea what to do when playing army men or crashing cars into each other. I find myself trying to play house with them and that doesn't go over well with your brothers. But lucky for you you have two brothers and a father who will fill that roll just fine.
- I am so ready for your arrival. Mostly so that Leo will stop calling me "Big Momma" every day. (hopefully) On the other hand I will miss his very sweet little way of asking me every day "How's the baby feeling today? Is he punching you very much?"
- Actually I'm not ready for your arrival at all. I did wash your clothes already so you will have the necessities of food and clothing. You don't have a room or crib ready yet but honestly I don't think you will even notice. And if you do, you can't talk yet so my guilt will be limited to some degree. And that is really the most important thing in this equation.
- You don't have a name yet. We are getting closer. You had one for a while, Owen Zachary, and it's still an option but I found I couldn't limit myself to it so now we have 4 names to choose from and probably won't decide until you are born. That's probably the only other reason I wish that you were a girl. We have a great girl name picked out and seems we will never get to use it. Unless we decide to give you a playmate in a few years. Then you are off the hook.
- I hope you are born before Halloween because I got you super cute little Halloween outfit to wear that day. But I hope you are not born on Halloween Day.
- You will like raw cookie dough. And cookies. It's a requirement for my children. Don't disappoint me. I might disown you.
- I hope you can learn to appreciate hand-me-downs. Because all gifts for your first few birthdays and Christmas are likely to just be things we already had for your brothers re-wrapped with your name on it.
- I don't know what the hell you have done to my hair. (Oh, and I cuss.) In the early stages of my pregnancy you gave off some sort of vibe that made it oddly wavy in one spot. I thought that was bad enough. I was wrong. Somehow you are now emitting some sort of hormone that has caused a greasy spot on the crown of my head. No amount of washing or avoidance of hair products can reduce this spot. I wake up in the morning looking like I stuck my finger in a light socket with greasy spikes of hair sticking up off my head. It's as if while I sleep you are frying up some bacon in there and running it through my veins to my scalp.
So that's just a few things you should know. There are many more of course and sadly for you your learning experiences will likely be documented on this blog for current and future entertainment of myself and others.
I love you already and I can't wait to meet you!!!!
Love
Mom
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Gymnastics
I started this post a few weeks ago and today as I sit here and watch the National Championships I decided to make time to finish it.
"Would you let your daughter do gymnastics?" I've been asked that question a thousand times in my adult life and my answer is pretty much always the same. My first answer is that I think every toddler should do gymnastics. Male or female. It teaches coordination, how to play, how to listen and follow directions. There aren't very many other activities that I can think of to do with your 2-3 year old that are better than a Tiny Tot gymnastics class.
But that's not what people are really asking. What they are really asking when they hear the level of gymnastics that I did is would you let your child train an incredible amount of hours every week of the year, possibly move away from home, miss out on all "normal" growing up activities, and put such stress on the body at a young age?
My answer is yes. But it's not a simple yes. Parenting decisions never are. But the answer isn't just that yes, I would let my daughter compete in elite gymnastics. It's yes, I will support my children to the best of my ability in any sport or activity that they desire to partake in.
Will I spend the time, money, effort, and emotions supporting my children? Umm, yeah. As long as it remains the right choice for our family, the answer is yes. Is gymnastics different than when I was 15? SO MUCH. But everything evolves. I suspect the 30 something year olds watching Nationals in the 90's felt the same way. It's just about perspective, I think.
What I won't do is try to relive my experience through theirs. There is so much controversy these days about elite gymnastics. Or maybe there isn't anymore than there has been in the past. Maybe it's just that now I am an adult and seeing it from a different perspective. Or maybe it's that the media plays it up. Or that we all have Facebook to discuss it until we are bored to tears. It's likely a combination of all.
I posted something similar to this on a friend's Facebook page a few weeks ago. The original post was about the destructiveness of elite gymnastics and the controversy about putting kids through it. My response is that there are some girls that have a rough go of it and come out very scarred. There are many others that come out just fine. I suspect we just don't hear from them as much because they are going about their adult lives and treating their time as a gymnast as something they once did. Not who they are. Or who they were. Or who they had the potential to be.....if only......
I went through a tough gym. It didn't always have the best reputation, but I'm certainly not scarred for the rest of my life because of it. I have lots of great memories. Learned a lot of really good life skills such as focus, hard work, dedication, concentration, seeing things through to the end. And how to cuss. I learned how to drop a good F bomb, too. So maybe not all of it was appropriate, but I made it through. And honestly, those skills (including the F-bomb) have really served me well in life. I could choose to focus on any negative memories, but that is true of every life experience. And there were plenty of tough times, but now I can look back on them and laugh a little and realized what I learned from them. How I want to do it different in a current situation in my life. When I want to raise my own white flag and take a break. Or when I need to suck it up and keep on pushing. I don't need to look back on those tough times and whine about what could have been or "if only" it to death. I learned how to take responsibility for my actions. Not to blame someone else (like my coach, or the process, or the equipment). Even if it was after the fact. Life lesson learned.
Don't get me wrong. It wasn't all sunshine. There were tough times. Like the times where I wasn't working hard enough or not working up to my potential and I was yelled at by my coaches. Oh and the incessant hours of training and conditioning to be stronger and more fit. That's right. Big fat shocker there. A coach yelled at an athlete to work harder, smarter, faster, and more perfectly. THAT never happens in other sports. So maybe it doesn't happen to 12 year olds in other sports, but it's not as if we all got into the sport not knowing that the peak ages are pre-teen and teenage years. We weren't being forced to compete at these levels. We did it by choice. We aren't like other countries where the athlete's families are dependent on their success. Some girls had families whose egos depended on their success, but not their livelihood.
So those that speak the loudest about their suffering have always gotten attention. The media eats that shit up. And then dramatizes it a little bit, or a lot of bit, and makes it seem like the norm. And then writes a book about it and makes it into a made for TV movie. Because those things are always accurate! It gives this unfair perception that the whole sport and the current selection process is all wrong. Horrible for the athletes and the sport itself. I will say that I know very little about the current system, but I suspect there were some retired gymnasts/parents saying the same thing about our system when we were going through it. It's just perspective. Don't pretty much all sports utilize competition as well as practices and training camps to determine their starting line up? Because they want to win? I can vividly recall every college gymnastics team changing the line up meet to meet and at the last minute in order to put up the best gymnasts that the team needed that particular competition. Some girls come out of college gymnastics with the same issues. Some come out with a positive experience. Some don't. Some come out with glowing memories. Some come out with scars (mental, emotional, and physical). Does it make it right or wrong? A horrible process or just one that wasn't a right fit for that athlete? It makes it life. What's so different with elite gymnastics? There's only so many spots available and the Olympics only come around once every 4 years. So not everyone is gonna make it. That's called life. It fits right along with my irritation that every kid gets a trophy at the end of sporting events because we don't want to identify a winner. Whatever. It's called competition for a reason.
So, will I let my child do gymnastics? Sure. As long as it continues to be the right choice for our child and our family. The same way we make every other parenting decision. As my mom has always said, "I did the best I could with what I knew at the time." That's parenting. That's sports. That's life.
"Would you let your daughter do gymnastics?" I've been asked that question a thousand times in my adult life and my answer is pretty much always the same. My first answer is that I think every toddler should do gymnastics. Male or female. It teaches coordination, how to play, how to listen and follow directions. There aren't very many other activities that I can think of to do with your 2-3 year old that are better than a Tiny Tot gymnastics class.
But that's not what people are really asking. What they are really asking when they hear the level of gymnastics that I did is would you let your child train an incredible amount of hours every week of the year, possibly move away from home, miss out on all "normal" growing up activities, and put such stress on the body at a young age?
My answer is yes. But it's not a simple yes. Parenting decisions never are. But the answer isn't just that yes, I would let my daughter compete in elite gymnastics. It's yes, I will support my children to the best of my ability in any sport or activity that they desire to partake in.
Will I spend the time, money, effort, and emotions supporting my children? Umm, yeah. As long as it remains the right choice for our family, the answer is yes. Is gymnastics different than when I was 15? SO MUCH. But everything evolves. I suspect the 30 something year olds watching Nationals in the 90's felt the same way. It's just about perspective, I think.
What I won't do is try to relive my experience through theirs. There is so much controversy these days about elite gymnastics. Or maybe there isn't anymore than there has been in the past. Maybe it's just that now I am an adult and seeing it from a different perspective. Or maybe it's that the media plays it up. Or that we all have Facebook to discuss it until we are bored to tears. It's likely a combination of all.
I posted something similar to this on a friend's Facebook page a few weeks ago. The original post was about the destructiveness of elite gymnastics and the controversy about putting kids through it. My response is that there are some girls that have a rough go of it and come out very scarred. There are many others that come out just fine. I suspect we just don't hear from them as much because they are going about their adult lives and treating their time as a gymnast as something they once did. Not who they are. Or who they were. Or who they had the potential to be.....if only......
I went through a tough gym. It didn't always have the best reputation, but I'm certainly not scarred for the rest of my life because of it. I have lots of great memories. Learned a lot of really good life skills such as focus, hard work, dedication, concentration, seeing things through to the end. And how to cuss. I learned how to drop a good F bomb, too. So maybe not all of it was appropriate, but I made it through. And honestly, those skills (including the F-bomb) have really served me well in life. I could choose to focus on any negative memories, but that is true of every life experience. And there were plenty of tough times, but now I can look back on them and laugh a little and realized what I learned from them. How I want to do it different in a current situation in my life. When I want to raise my own white flag and take a break. Or when I need to suck it up and keep on pushing. I don't need to look back on those tough times and whine about what could have been or "if only" it to death. I learned how to take responsibility for my actions. Not to blame someone else (like my coach, or the process, or the equipment). Even if it was after the fact. Life lesson learned.
Don't get me wrong. It wasn't all sunshine. There were tough times. Like the times where I wasn't working hard enough or not working up to my potential and I was yelled at by my coaches. Oh and the incessant hours of training and conditioning to be stronger and more fit. That's right. Big fat shocker there. A coach yelled at an athlete to work harder, smarter, faster, and more perfectly. THAT never happens in other sports. So maybe it doesn't happen to 12 year olds in other sports, but it's not as if we all got into the sport not knowing that the peak ages are pre-teen and teenage years. We weren't being forced to compete at these levels. We did it by choice. We aren't like other countries where the athlete's families are dependent on their success. Some girls had families whose egos depended on their success, but not their livelihood.
So those that speak the loudest about their suffering have always gotten attention. The media eats that shit up. And then dramatizes it a little bit, or a lot of bit, and makes it seem like the norm. And then writes a book about it and makes it into a made for TV movie. Because those things are always accurate! It gives this unfair perception that the whole sport and the current selection process is all wrong. Horrible for the athletes and the sport itself. I will say that I know very little about the current system, but I suspect there were some retired gymnasts/parents saying the same thing about our system when we were going through it. It's just perspective. Don't pretty much all sports utilize competition as well as practices and training camps to determine their starting line up? Because they want to win? I can vividly recall every college gymnastics team changing the line up meet to meet and at the last minute in order to put up the best gymnasts that the team needed that particular competition. Some girls come out of college gymnastics with the same issues. Some come out with a positive experience. Some don't. Some come out with glowing memories. Some come out with scars (mental, emotional, and physical). Does it make it right or wrong? A horrible process or just one that wasn't a right fit for that athlete? It makes it life. What's so different with elite gymnastics? There's only so many spots available and the Olympics only come around once every 4 years. So not everyone is gonna make it. That's called life. It fits right along with my irritation that every kid gets a trophy at the end of sporting events because we don't want to identify a winner. Whatever. It's called competition for a reason.
So, will I let my child do gymnastics? Sure. As long as it continues to be the right choice for our child and our family. The same way we make every other parenting decision. As my mom has always said, "I did the best I could with what I knew at the time." That's parenting. That's sports. That's life.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
The Vacuum Boy
Last night, out of nowhere, Leo started crying and whining that we "never vacuum!" He's not necessarily wrong. Vacuuming is not really my strong suit and for some reason this devastates my second born child. So after several minutes of begging, he got side tracked. I took the opportunity to make dinner and clean up the kitchen.
But he could not be deterred. As soon as dinner was over he was back to begging to vacuum. We relented by having the boys clean their rooms so we could vacuum their rooms. As soon as he finished he let out a huge wail. "We NEVER mooooooooooop!" What????? Again, the kid is not wrong. I have never mopped a single thing in this house. That's daddy's job. Judge me or be jealous. Doesn't matter to me. Daddy mops. End of story.
But daddy wasn't up for mopping at 8 pm on a Friday night. We are a huge disappointment to our son, apparently. I promised repeatedly that we will spend Saturday morning cleaning. So it was no surprise that the first words out of Leo's mouth at 7:30 am were "Is it time to dust and vacuum?" Soon, my son, soon.
And then the cleaning started. First it was the living room. He is a big fan of feather dusting the actual furniture. Whatevs.
Then it was on to Justin's room
(note, Justin just watching him)
Then it was on to the office/spare bedroom that is currently being renovated for the boys.
He clearly loves how he looks while cleaning! Now it's on to mom's room and cleaning the new dog bed.
Thanks Justin for your support!
But he could not be deterred. As soon as dinner was over he was back to begging to vacuum. We relented by having the boys clean their rooms so we could vacuum their rooms. As soon as he finished he let out a huge wail. "We NEVER mooooooooooop!" What????? Again, the kid is not wrong. I have never mopped a single thing in this house. That's daddy's job. Judge me or be jealous. Doesn't matter to me. Daddy mops. End of story.
But daddy wasn't up for mopping at 8 pm on a Friday night. We are a huge disappointment to our son, apparently. I promised repeatedly that we will spend Saturday morning cleaning. So it was no surprise that the first words out of Leo's mouth at 7:30 am were "Is it time to dust and vacuum?" Soon, my son, soon.
And then the cleaning started. First it was the living room. He is a big fan of feather dusting the actual furniture. Whatevs.
Then it was on to Justin's room
(note, Justin just watching him)
Then it was on to the office/spare bedroom that is currently being renovated for the boys.
Meanwhile, Justin plays Leo's Leapster while our dog licks himself. nice!
Next up: the kitchen floor
Having finished most rooms inside the house, the next obvious place to dust is.....
around the front door!
And don't forget the front windows!
And we can't let the birds eat out of a dirty bird feeder!!
And now, he needs to take the rug downstairs to the laundry room so he can get ready for vacuuming. Life just can't get any better than this.
and now it's FINALLY time to vacuum!!
and the steps...
Thanks Justin for your support!
And the final step (of course) is to.....
dust the vacuum itself!
And now it's time for a little TV (with feather duster still in hand)
No, I did not think up any of this myself and YES he is for hire to good homes :)
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Get In My Belly!
Oh the joys of pregnancy. Not that I'm complaining. It's not as if this was an accident and I didn't know what I was getting myself into. I went into this with my eyes, and apparently my mouth, wide open.
I've been eating. And eating, and eating, and eating, and eating. For my first two pregnancies I was sick every once in a while and had lots of food aversions. This time around I can't be stopped. Food is my friend. My best friend apparently. And while my food intake has increased about tenfold, my exhaustion level went through the roof.
Example #1: 5 weeks pregnant. Anyone that has been pregnant or known a pregnant lady you know that our memories go kaput during pregnancy. I was a total space cadet. Made it through the morning routine with everything in place until I got to work and realized I didn't have any breakfast and also forgot my purse. I had about zero gas left and no way to buy food or gas. And this mama was HUNGRY! I turned around, drove home on fumes (gas light turned on as I pulled in the driveway), grabbed my purse and went straight to the gas station. But gas station food is nasty so I went to the nearest grocery store, parked in the expectant mother spot just to entertain myself (and it was closer to the food), and stocked up on enough food to last me until......well, until I got to work because I ate it all on the way there!
Example #2: 6 weeks pregnant I asked my in-laws to watch the boys on a Friday night because I could barely drag my tired butt home from work, let alone chase after my kids. Had there been a comfy place to lay my head at work I highly suspect I would have avoided the drive home all together. But drive home I did. Cooking my own dinner was out of the question. Price Chopper here I come. It was a Friday during Lent and their catfish dinner was calling my name. Hunger won out over exhaustion for a brief moment as I scurried around the grocery store throwing not one but TWO single-serving desserts in my cart along with my meal. Molten chocolate cake and apple pie in case anyone cares to know. More impulsivity: 2 trashy magazines. Sadly, except not sad for my waistline, I fell asleep before I could eat either dessert or properly dive into the dramas of Hollywood. This is followed by an eating binge the next day. Breakfast at home. Drive-thru Stake N Shake on the way to get the kids. Thoughts of Houlihans even as I lick the cheese from my cheesy fries off my fingers. Snacks at a bridal shower followed by yes.....Houlihans for dinner. Thank you, honey, for giving in to my every need!
Example #3: While I was eating plenty and often, there were times when some foods sounded awful. Like the night that Justin tried to get me to eat a combo of grape and ketchup, which he loves for some strange reason. When I politely declined, he continued to push me to eat it. We went back and forth until I explained that sometimes when mommy's have a baby in there belly their stomach kind of feels sick. Leo pipes up with "Well, that's why we don't eat babies!" Perfectly logical for him to think the baby got into my belly by eating it since that is the way everything else gets in our bellies. We'll stick with that explanation until the 4th grade health class speech!
Example #4: 9 weeks pregnant I know I am visiting the grocery store with the boys too frequently when Justin says "Hey, when the baby comes there will be 5 of us in our family. Where is the baby going to sit when we go to the grocery store?" Apparently the store was our only outing for about 5 weeks straight.
Example #5: also 9 weeks pregnant Easter Sunday. I ate an entire meal of soup in a bread bowl from Panera BEFORE Easter lunch. Seriously. I can't make this stuff up. My in-laws were kind enough not to judge. When we got o the firehouse with Easter dinner I let everyone go through the line first in a weak attempt to put a reasonable amount of time between my meals.
Example #6: 10 weeks pregnant My appetite is reaching its all time high. I'm a big fan of home style food. Enter: Roxanne's. A super good little restaurant near my office. In a span of 24 hours I ate there three times. All with different people so as to not draw attention to my obsession. Chicken fried chicken, mash potatoes, and a veggies. Oh, and a huge doughy roll. Mmmm-mmmmmmm. Sadly, at my third visit the waiter asked "Haven't you already been here once today?" He wasn't wrong. Thankfully he didn't remember I had also been there the day before too!
Example #7: all weeks. Pizza hut personal pan pizza with beef and ham. 'Nuf said. (although if I'm being honest with myself this one isn't horribly unusual even in my non-prego days).
Example #8: 12 and 13 weeks pregnant. Frequent flyer at Houlihans bar......because that's where I pick up my take out usual of stuffed chicken with golden mashed potatoes. YUMMMMM!
Week 13: I made Jeremy promise me that when I start getting fat, not just pregnancy fat, but seriously chunky. Just tell me straight up. Don't be mean about it. Just tell me. I can handle it. I'm a big girl. No pun intended.
I've been eating. And eating, and eating, and eating, and eating. For my first two pregnancies I was sick every once in a while and had lots of food aversions. This time around I can't be stopped. Food is my friend. My best friend apparently. And while my food intake has increased about tenfold, my exhaustion level went through the roof.
Example #1: 5 weeks pregnant. Anyone that has been pregnant or known a pregnant lady you know that our memories go kaput during pregnancy. I was a total space cadet. Made it through the morning routine with everything in place until I got to work and realized I didn't have any breakfast and also forgot my purse. I had about zero gas left and no way to buy food or gas. And this mama was HUNGRY! I turned around, drove home on fumes (gas light turned on as I pulled in the driveway), grabbed my purse and went straight to the gas station. But gas station food is nasty so I went to the nearest grocery store, parked in the expectant mother spot just to entertain myself (and it was closer to the food), and stocked up on enough food to last me until......well, until I got to work because I ate it all on the way there!
Example #2: 6 weeks pregnant I asked my in-laws to watch the boys on a Friday night because I could barely drag my tired butt home from work, let alone chase after my kids. Had there been a comfy place to lay my head at work I highly suspect I would have avoided the drive home all together. But drive home I did. Cooking my own dinner was out of the question. Price Chopper here I come. It was a Friday during Lent and their catfish dinner was calling my name. Hunger won out over exhaustion for a brief moment as I scurried around the grocery store throwing not one but TWO single-serving desserts in my cart along with my meal. Molten chocolate cake and apple pie in case anyone cares to know. More impulsivity: 2 trashy magazines. Sadly, except not sad for my waistline, I fell asleep before I could eat either dessert or properly dive into the dramas of Hollywood. This is followed by an eating binge the next day. Breakfast at home. Drive-thru Stake N Shake on the way to get the kids. Thoughts of Houlihans even as I lick the cheese from my cheesy fries off my fingers. Snacks at a bridal shower followed by yes.....Houlihans for dinner. Thank you, honey, for giving in to my every need!
Example #3: While I was eating plenty and often, there were times when some foods sounded awful. Like the night that Justin tried to get me to eat a combo of grape and ketchup, which he loves for some strange reason. When I politely declined, he continued to push me to eat it. We went back and forth until I explained that sometimes when mommy's have a baby in there belly their stomach kind of feels sick. Leo pipes up with "Well, that's why we don't eat babies!" Perfectly logical for him to think the baby got into my belly by eating it since that is the way everything else gets in our bellies. We'll stick with that explanation until the 4th grade health class speech!
Example #4: 9 weeks pregnant I know I am visiting the grocery store with the boys too frequently when Justin says "Hey, when the baby comes there will be 5 of us in our family. Where is the baby going to sit when we go to the grocery store?" Apparently the store was our only outing for about 5 weeks straight.
Example #5: also 9 weeks pregnant Easter Sunday. I ate an entire meal of soup in a bread bowl from Panera BEFORE Easter lunch. Seriously. I can't make this stuff up. My in-laws were kind enough not to judge. When we got o the firehouse with Easter dinner I let everyone go through the line first in a weak attempt to put a reasonable amount of time between my meals.
Example #6: 10 weeks pregnant My appetite is reaching its all time high. I'm a big fan of home style food. Enter: Roxanne's. A super good little restaurant near my office. In a span of 24 hours I ate there three times. All with different people so as to not draw attention to my obsession. Chicken fried chicken, mash potatoes, and a veggies. Oh, and a huge doughy roll. Mmmm-mmmmmmm. Sadly, at my third visit the waiter asked "Haven't you already been here once today?" He wasn't wrong. Thankfully he didn't remember I had also been there the day before too!
Example #7: all weeks. Pizza hut personal pan pizza with beef and ham. 'Nuf said. (although if I'm being honest with myself this one isn't horribly unusual even in my non-prego days).
Example #8: 12 and 13 weeks pregnant. Frequent flyer at Houlihans bar......because that's where I pick up my take out usual of stuffed chicken with golden mashed potatoes. YUMMMMM!
Week 13: I made Jeremy promise me that when I start getting fat, not just pregnancy fat, but seriously chunky. Just tell me straight up. Don't be mean about it. Just tell me. I can handle it. I'm a big girl. No pun intended.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
The Announcement
I've been writing a blog for the last few weeks. It's cute and funny. Lots of little fun stories from the boys. It's purpose was to make our big announcement, but today's events changed that. I now feel this is the appropriate way to make our announcement:
That's right. Leo's going to be a big brother. That's Leo. Our 3 year old. With blood all over his cute little "big brother" shirt that is a hand me down from when Justin wore it before Leo was born. And yes, that's tissue stuffed up his nose. And a sad, pathetic look on his face. Just be happy that I cleaned all of the blood off his face and hands before taking the pic. It was not a pretty site and I still haven't started cleaning the car seat.
After a fun-filled day of a trip to the zoo and a purse party at my friend Sarah's house, the boys were exhausted. If you have ever been around children, then you know that exhaustion shows itself in two lovely ways: meltdowns or utter silliness. Today we choose silliness. For the last 10 minutes of the party they put on quite a display. Running, uncontrollable giggling, throwing themselves on the floor (usually on top of each other with extra attempts to kick each other), and just general craziness.
It was a real effort to get them corralled towards the door and into the car. The silliness continued. We were so far past nap time it was getting scary. They begged for Bon Jovi CD. I complied. They were dancing and flinging themselves around in their car seats. My hope was that they would literally dance themselves into a hard slumber. They were so close when.....
Just one mile from Sarah's house blood starts spewing from Leo's nose. I don't suppose it has anything to do with the fact that Justin kicked him in the face during their wrestling demonstration before we left Sarah's house.
So it is literally all over the car. This kid is a gusher! And he had been flinging his head and body around to the music so by the time I stop the car on the first gravel driveway I can find and hop out to fling his door open, it's not only all over his shirt, face, hands, and car seat. There are blood splatters as far away as Justin's car seat. I worked hard to clean it all up but can't help but think that if someday my car is part of a crime scene investigation the police are going to come looking for DNA from my 3 year old.
Anyway, after at least 5 minutes of soaking every McDonald's napkin, tissue, and the 3 paper towels that we happen to have in the car from eating breakfast on the way to the zoo, I was able to get it slow down enough to try to clean him and the car up a little bit. Then we packed his nose and took off for home. Leo fell asleep within seconds. Justin stayed awake the entire way home and frequently mentioned how Leo's bloody nose really "makes me feel like not being very silly anymore."
Anyone that thinks Baby #3 won't be a boy is just crazy. This is what we are destined for!
That's right. Leo's going to be a big brother. That's Leo. Our 3 year old. With blood all over his cute little "big brother" shirt that is a hand me down from when Justin wore it before Leo was born. And yes, that's tissue stuffed up his nose. And a sad, pathetic look on his face. Just be happy that I cleaned all of the blood off his face and hands before taking the pic. It was not a pretty site and I still haven't started cleaning the car seat.
After a fun-filled day of a trip to the zoo and a purse party at my friend Sarah's house, the boys were exhausted. If you have ever been around children, then you know that exhaustion shows itself in two lovely ways: meltdowns or utter silliness. Today we choose silliness. For the last 10 minutes of the party they put on quite a display. Running, uncontrollable giggling, throwing themselves on the floor (usually on top of each other with extra attempts to kick each other), and just general craziness.
It was a real effort to get them corralled towards the door and into the car. The silliness continued. We were so far past nap time it was getting scary. They begged for Bon Jovi CD. I complied. They were dancing and flinging themselves around in their car seats. My hope was that they would literally dance themselves into a hard slumber. They were so close when.....
Just one mile from Sarah's house blood starts spewing from Leo's nose. I don't suppose it has anything to do with the fact that Justin kicked him in the face during their wrestling demonstration before we left Sarah's house.
So it is literally all over the car. This kid is a gusher! And he had been flinging his head and body around to the music so by the time I stop the car on the first gravel driveway I can find and hop out to fling his door open, it's not only all over his shirt, face, hands, and car seat. There are blood splatters as far away as Justin's car seat. I worked hard to clean it all up but can't help but think that if someday my car is part of a crime scene investigation the police are going to come looking for DNA from my 3 year old.
Anyway, after at least 5 minutes of soaking every McDonald's napkin, tissue, and the 3 paper towels that we happen to have in the car from eating breakfast on the way to the zoo, I was able to get it slow down enough to try to clean him and the car up a little bit. Then we packed his nose and took off for home. Leo fell asleep within seconds. Justin stayed awake the entire way home and frequently mentioned how Leo's bloody nose really "makes me feel like not being very silly anymore."
Anyone that thinks Baby #3 won't be a boy is just crazy. This is what we are destined for!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)