Murphy’s Law of Husband’s Leaving Town

So, my husband was gone all of last week. NBD, I thought, because we do this every year. Frankly, he gets left home alone with the kids a lot more often than I do, and he always survives quite nicely. Even I’ve survived quite nicely in the past. (Okay, so last year I blew a fuse in the kitchen and ended up making pancakes on the griddle in my living room, with my coffee maker plugged in on my desk BUT WHATEVER WE’LL IGNORE THAT INCIDENT.)

But this time, oh, this time.

Well, to start off, we’re potty training the two youngest children. I say we, there is no I in team after all, but there was an *I* this week when I was left alone to do it myself. Side note: There is no ‘wine’ in potty training either, but there SHOULD BE.

So, to start it off, I’ve got two potty training kids. Then, the day my husband leaves, Danger decides it is really cool to climb out his brother’s window. The window goes to the fenced in yard, fine, whatever, but I ended up with a FLY infestation as a result of the frequently open window. Like 20 flies in my kitchen. So I had to hang up fly strips, which is not pretty, FYI. >.>

Other than that, the weekend was okay. Enter Monday. Diva broke both pairs of glasses, Danger made the world’s biggest shaving cream mess, and the pair of them decided my creamer makes an awesome drink and every time I left the room they were pouring themselves glasses of my pumpkin spice creamer, and making massive sticky messes every time. Then Danger would jump out the window. By nightfall it was raining, our first hard rain of the year, and I discovered our new house has a massive leak in the roof. And then I did this: 

By the end of the day, I’m exhausted, and I have to get up 6:00 to get drama to school. So I fall asleep and I sleep like a rock. Until I wake up at 4:00 because the husband’s amp has spontaneously turned itself on and is emitting a high pitched whining noise that probably made our poor dog’s ears bleed. I get up, turn it off, go back to sleep.

And then at 5:00…

*scratchscratchscratch*

I wake up to that.

*scratchscratchscratch*

WTH!?

*scratchscratchscratch*

I’m all kinds of freaked out, clutching my covers to my chest in utter terror, because, let’s face it, I’m the only adult in this house and this is NOT THE MOST SECURE THING EVER. Because WHO IS GOING TO PROTECT US FROM BURGLARS!? Surely not me. I’m weak, and I have tiny t-rex arms!! THINK OF THE CHILDREN.

*scratchscratchscratch*

Okay, not a burglar. But probably a mouse. EWWW.

Unless it’s not a mouse. Unless it’s a wolverine. In the closet. CHEWING ON A CAT CORPSE. (totally not dramatic, that’s what it sounded like. Exactly. Google that sound effect if you can: Wolverine chewing on a cat corpse. I bet it is a real thing, and I bet it sounded JUST LIKE HOW THIS MOUSE IN MY CLOSET SOUNDED)

So I just gave up and got up. Exhausted, already cranky. And thus, began the longest day. But I did eat cookies for breakfast in protest of how JACKED UP the day started.

I can hardly even break it into specific incidents but it basically felt like the prisoners had revolted and the guard was under attack. Finally, I loaded everyone up and we went to town. We got Diva’s glasses repaired. And NO JOKE twenty minutes later, Danger stepped on them getting out of the fan and torqued them beyond repair. *cries*

That day, when I got home…this happened: 

Wednesday I got revisions AND line edits from my editor. Which I was SO looking forward to, but had no time to do, which, for me, is its own kind of hell.

This is that Murphy’s Law stuff. The husband goes out of town and the world explodes. (Because he’s back now and they’re acting like fricking angels and the wolverine has totally not returned, so whatever.)

It’s funny how often I feel like I’m so TOTALLY A GROWN UP NOW. Only deep down, I’m kind of not. Or maybe this is what being a grown up is. Maybe it’s not handling everything perfectly, or feeling like you just HAVE IT DOWN. Maybe it’s not so different than being a kid.  Except, now when I’m mad at life I can eat cookies for breakfast. Yes, I can. You’re not my real mom.

That’s actually one thing I love love about this blog, this group, and the greater online community. I know I’m not the only one ready to pull their hair out at the end of the day sometimes. I’m not the only one who wants to hide in a closet with the last Snickers bar because I DON’T WANNA SHARE. I’m human, and sometimes I’m immature, or tired, or worn to a frazzle, but so is everyone. And it doesn’t mean I failed. It doesn’t mean you failed either.

But if there’s a wolverine in your closet you might wanna get it looked at.

The No Shouting Rule

I *think* I was inspired to do this by one of the commenters on a previous post. You know how it is. Intelligent with a good memory before kids. Now…not so much.

Regardless, just a couple of weeks ago I was inspired by *something* to try a no-shouting rule. For me, specifically, not the kids. I don’t shout a lot, to be honest, but whenever I do get upset enough to shout (thinking perhaps the kids will pay more attention to me if I’m louder? ha!), I always feel more out of control. I wanted to try a “no shouting” rule for myself because 1) I wanted an internal reminder to stay calm and patient and 2) I don’t want my children to look back on their childhoods and remember their mother shouting at them a lot…or learn that it’s okay to shout whenever they’re upset.

(Awesome note: I was sneaky and didn’t ask my husband to abide by this same rule; I simply told him what I was going to do. A few days later, voila! He told me he decided to implement his own “no shouting” rule. =) )

So, after at least a week and a half of this rule being implemented, what are the results?

I’m pleased to say that having this accountability for myself seems to be working–for the most part. I still do raise my voice (mostly when I’m concerned, i.e. someone is fixing to hurt themselves), but the shouting from being upset only happens very rarely now. Because of the “no shouting” rule, I feel like I am calmer and more patient, which is definitely good. I’ve developed a different perspective with my kids also; better communication and affection has replaced shouting. I’m in a better mood because I do truly feel like I have more control, and I’m also happy because I made that positive change to be a better parent. I’m not sure how much the girls have noticed this change, but the major impact has been on how I feel about myself as a parent; it’s given me more confidence. And, yay!! because it seems to be working well for my husband, too.

So, for all of you other moms out there who are trying to preserve your sanity and become a better parent, I highly recommend giving yourself a “no shouting” rule.

Next step: getting WonderGirl to start obeying the “no biting” rule. =)

What rules do you have (if any) for yourself as a parent? And if I got this idea for no shouting from you and I can’t remember who you are, thank you so much! =)

the post in which Robyn whines

As we enter the life-altering time that is known as the terrible twos, much of our sweet baby girl is changing. She talks all the time, which is awesome. She has this amazing little imagination – one time last week we were on our way home from a restaurant that had a large outdoor water feature. She told us she saw a crab in the water and then proceeded to tell us that she had caught it and was bringing it home with her. She talked about her crab all the way home – first she was holding the crab to make sure he didn’t get lost and then, oops, she dropped him and we had to all be careful so he didn’t bite anyone’s toes. It was hilarious. But along with all of this comes with other less than delightful behavior. One, she kinda has a mean streak. Mostly it’s aimed toward her older sister, but sometimes her Daddy gets it and on occasion, I get some of it. She mostly scratches, pulls hair, and pinches. It’s not pretty or sweet or cute or funny and I spend much of my day chasing after her to keep her off her sister.

But that’s not even what I wanted to talk about today. Nope, my main complaint (and really that’s all this is today, one big fat mommy whine!) is that she’s stopped eating. She used to be my good eater. She would eat all kinds of wonderful, healthy food and try nearly everything. Now I suspect that much of this is being caused by the fact that I think she’s cutting her molars. But it’s creating a kinda terrible cyclical nightmare. She won’t eat and then she gets super cranky because she’s hungry. Add water, rinse, repeat. ARGH! I can almost always get yogurt in her and mac&cheese and fruit, she’ll usually eat fruit. But nothing is ever an all the time kind of thing. And many of our go-to staples for months are now, no-no’s. She’ll say, “No, don’t like it.”

All super frustrating. So come on mommy’s lets whine today. Get it off your chest. What are your kiddos doing right now that bug you or are making your life more complicated? Let’s grumble, grumble together.

---

I’m Robyn DeHart, AKA Basket-Case Mama, but not because I’m crazy (though really, what mom isn’t?) but because I have a slight obsession with baskets, well containers really. I’m a bit of an organization nut and I love to containerize stuff. And yes, I’m authorized to use words like that because I am also a writer. But back to the kids, so I’m mom to two ridiculously beautiful little girls and I can say that without bragging because I didn’t actually make them. Last year my husband, The Professor, and I adopted said little lovelies from the foster-care system here in Texas and now we’re a big happy forever family. Busybee is three and so full of joy it just oozes from her. Babybee is a walking-talking toddler who has a heck of a temper but is so cute, it almost keeps her out of trouble. Though neither of my girls are newborns, I’m fairly new to motherhood compared to the other peanut butter moms, but we’ve settled in as a family as if we’ve always been together. When I’m not trying to keep up with my two bundles of energy, you can usually find me on my laptop on Pinterest, no, that’s not right, um…you can find me writing, yes, that’s it, writing my latest historical romance. www.robyndehart.com

On Milk Allergies and Trusting Your Mommy Gut

There are millions of new things to worry about when you bring a newborn home for the first time, especially when it’s your first child. You’re completely freaking clueless no matter how much you thought you prepared ahead of time. And I was no exception. I had read every book I could get my hands on, had followed all the “rules”. For nine months I didn’t have even a sip of wine, I avoided deli meat and hot dogs because of listeria, and I skipped peanut butter in the third trimester because it can trigger allergies in the unborn child (supposedly.) Yes, I was that mom, Ms. Paranoid, take everything the baby book says as gospel.

So when I brought my lovely, wrinkly newborn home, I thought I was armed with knowledge. Well, yeah, that didn’t go so well. For the first eight weeks, my baby was miserable. He wouldn’t sleep, he cried nonstop and after nursing, he seemed to be in pain, his little knees curling to his chest as he passed the most ferocious gas ever. Seriously, how could something so little be so loud? I brought him to the doctor, convinced he had something wrong and my pediatrician at the time told me, “probably colic.” Colic–code for, we don’t know what the hell is wrong with him and you’re being dramatic.

So off I went back home with my baby still miserable (and me out of my mind with exhaustion and worry.) I remember calling my mom one night when my husband was out of town and my son wouldn’t stop crying. I burst into hysterical tears along with him over the phone and freaked my poor mother out. She was on a plane the next day (even though she’d just left a week before) to come and help me. Bless mothers.

And of course, my mom, being my mom, was like–there is something wrong. I don’t care what the doctor says. This is not normal. Finally, someone who agreed with me. So off to the trusty internet I went to start researching and self-diagnosing (usually dangerous, but in this case helpful.) I found out about milk allergy and went back to my doctor to ask about it. During the visit, kidlet conveniently let one of his epic gas episodes rip and the doctor asked in shock, “Is it always like that?”

Hello! Yes, have you not been listening to me?

So long story short (well, not so short), but they tested kidlet and he had a milk AND a soy allergy. Not the anaphylactic shock kind, but an intestinal allergy which made his intestines bleed. Poor guy had been suffering any time I had the slightest bit of anything with milk/soy in it and he’d take it in through breast milk. I had to cut all milk and soy out of my diet–which is basically everything. Try finding a loaf of bread in a normal store that doesn’t have milk. It wasn’t fun, but I was determined.

Kidlet recovered and after he turned three, we were able to work some dairy and soy back into his diet. Doc declared him fully recovered, though I still had my doubts. He seemed to have problems after he drank straight up milk, so I pulled him off of it. I thought I was being paranoid, but then this week kidlet started summer day care and went from home-packed lunches to school lunches. Well, two days on milk and he’s had diarrhea for a week. *sigh* Apparently he hasn’t grown out of it. I don’t quite understand how he can now have cheese with no problem but milk or yogurt set him off. It may have developed into a lactose intolerance instead of an allergy. But anyhow, once again I’m checking labels and monitoring what he eats at school.

So, honestly, I’m not sure what my point is in this post, lol. But I know when I was looking for info on milk allergies as a new mom, it was helpful to hear stories from other moms since the doctor kept telling me “colic.” So maybe someone who needs to read this will find it. Also, it’s a lesson in trusting your parental instincts even if you’re new to the whole mommyhood thing. If I hadn’t kept pushing and researching, I would’ve continued unknowlingly torturing my child.

Have you ever had a time where trusting your mommy (or daddy) instincts got you the answer you needed? Anyone else had a child with “colic”?  Does your child suffer with food allergies or sensitivities?

---

I’m Roni Loren, or as I’m called ‘round these parts, No Drama Mama. I’ve been married for ten years and have a four-year old son, who has recently been diagnosed with high-functioning autism. My days are spent writing very sexy romances (my PC way of saying erotic),avoiding all things housework, and hanging out with a kidlet who I suspect is vastly smarter than I am. I secretly dream of having a life that looks like the pages of Real Simple magazine, but would settle for Sorta Decent if could get there. My daily goal is to keep the drama on the pages of my books and out of my life–I’m successful at least twenty percent of the time. www.roniloren.com

But I want it NOW!

Most of us are familiar with the tantrum. You know what I’m talking about, you correct your child or tell them no or take something from them and the screaming starts, sometimes it is complimented by tears, kicking and any number of other choreography. We don’t have a lot of this at my house. At least we haven’t until recently. Our oldest, Busybee, is going through something. I suspect as she’s nearing the end of her third year that she’s gaining developmental skills, her brain is growing and she’s learning so much stuff that her poor little body simply can’t handle it all. Top that off with hormonal issues, and well the hard reality that life is simply not fair, and well we’ve got a situation ripe with potential tantrums.

Normally tantrums do not fluster me much. I can handle a screaming kid. I can walk away from a screaming kid. I can turn on the sink and do dishes or send said screamer to their room to sit on their bed until they calm down, at which point they are allowed to look at books for a while before coming back down stairs. But lately these lovely events have been happening at nap time and at bedtime (not all of them, mind you, just some of them) and well, I simply cannot abide the screaming waking up Babybee, that makes mommy cranky. Still we endeavor to not give into the drama because that doesn’t solve anything.

But I shall admit that the last two days have left me exhausted and frazzled and frankly a little worried about what tomorrow shall bring. Especially since we’re having storms and we’re likely to have rain tomorrow. I’m considering my options and right now I’m thinking I’m going to be proactive, not let the girls play too much together to avoid potential conflict. Maybe I’ll put Busybee at the kitchen table with some arts & crafts or something to keep her busy and hopefully out of trouble.

Okay Mama’s what’s your best tips on how to handle tantrums? The shouts of “NO!” when I tell her to go to time out, the pulling the toy back when I’m trying to pry it from her fingers? Bring on the advice and on Mother’s Day, I’ll pick a winner to win one of my books, readers choice!