Parenting 101: Uncensored Sacrasm

Being a parent is f*ing hard, and to be honest, outright a pain in the ass sometimes. Don’t get me wrong. I love my kid. Obviously. But seriously. It’s hard. There are those great moments when they actually ask to hold your hand and walk with you, instead of immediately jetting down the building stairs and out to the sidewalk before you realize their shorts might be on backwards. But most of the time I find myself screaming “RED LIGHT!!!” down the block at my free range kid, in hopes that he will stop. A mom can always hope right?

Speaking of “free range,” there are so many different types of parenting that are constantly debated back and forth every day between all these parents who think they have got their shit together. And maybe they do have their shit together, and I’m the only one who’s a mess. But to be honest, I’m not the one sounding like an asshole saying “I have my three month old sleep trained. I don’t understand why my best friend has such trouble with her four year old boy.” *rolling my eyes so far back in my head they may get stuck* But really there’s helicopter parents and free range parents. Well I’d love to throw another one into the mix. What about “Electric Fence” parenting? It’s kind of like the same thing as the electric fences for dogs. They don’t have any visual restrictions and the false confidence that they are able to roam freely. However, if they get too far for your parental liking *ZAP!*

I’m kidding. Obviously I’m not strapping a collar to my kid. I definitely understand kid leashes a lot more now than I ever did before though.

Then there is the entire subject of food. I have what would be considered a Self-Proclaimed Vegetarian. He refuses any meat even though he’s never tried it. “I can’t like it.” Really? You are a four year old and you can’t like a hotdog? No, you’re just being a pain in the ass because there is nothing else at this restaurant to order you besides a side order of French Fries and you know Mumma and Daddy are starving and will order them because we need to eat.. now. I never in the world thought I would have to argue with a child to take a bite of chicken nuggets! And while I bitch and moan about trying to bribe my healthy child with unhealthy food, most parents would think I’m crazy. Seriously, he will eat raw spinach and broccoli before even thinking about biting into a burger. But when you are out to eat, NO ONE is serving raw veggies on a plate. No one. Believe me. I have asked.

Then there is the whole parrot personality. This we learned happens even before they turn two. I can remember the moment when I took my eighteen month old child around the block to pick up some things in the pharmacy. As he began walking down an isle waddling and holding onto my wallet, I said “No sweetie, follow mumma this way.” He looked me dead in the eye, threw my wallet to the ground and said “Oh shit.” And the parrot phase began. I wish that was the worst of what he said. But then came the day that he was playing with his trains alone in his room and we heard “Choo choo, watch out. The fucking four train is coming through.” NO! Those are bad words! Don’t say that! Well that’s what I would have said, but I knew he heard everything he’s learned from my husband and me so that wasn’t going to work. Instead, I started to say, “No, that’s an adult word. When you are as big as daddy you can use it.” And it TOTALLY worked! Mumma -1, kid – well, he’s obviously still winning.

Also, why can’t kids learn what a hangover is early on, and how to not annoy but help a mumma through it. No? Fetching Tylenol and water isn’t something to teach your preschooler? Ok. Fine. I’ll wait until he’s a bit older then.

UGH! Then there’s the STRANGERS! Not the ones you need to warn your child about. (That is seriously my biggest fear and I cannot even begin to joke about “stranger danger.”) I’m talking about the random people on the sidewalk or in the grocery store who want to give you advice on your screaming child who just smacked you in the face because you wouldn’t buy him Apple Jacks. No, ma’am, I don’t care that you raised five children and that they never did anything like this and maybe he just needs some extra love and attention. I just played 7 hours of a Paw Patrol board game at home via his request. Now we have to do grocery shopping for the week and I’m obviously not putting sugar into my already rambunctious child. Also, HE is a boy. I know he has long hair and I know I didn’t brush it this morning. But to be honest, I didn’t feel like fighting. And I really think the dreads that are forming on the back of his head will make him the cool kid once school starts next week.

All jokes and complete sarcasm aside, parenting is hard. We’re all in it. Some of us deeper than others. I see a kid having a tantrum in the store, and I immediately look at the mother or father. Not to cast judgement, more to telepathically emit my sympathy. We’re all in it together. Some days are better than others. Most days we can’t complain at all. But it’s real. It’s hard. And it’s our lives. And, seriously, I wouldn’t change a minute of it. 

Changing the World

As of recently, I have really come to dislike signing onto Facebook. While I love all the photos of friends getting married, starting families, traveling, hanging with their cool pets, and eating at delicious restaurants, those are not the only things filling up my news feed. Arguments about the correct views on current events and issues that the world is facing, blatant ignorance and hatred through "funny" posts belittling others for their choice of lifestyle, and the destruction of the human bond of compassion between individuals because of their differences. This is what I see more and more. And it makes me what to scream.. and cry. Instead of taking opportunities to educate themselves on the ever-changing world, people are stuck throwing out hatred for what they chose not to believe in. I am a huge supporter of different views. If everyone lived the same, looked the same, acted the same, what a boring and one dimensional life this would be for all of us. How would we grow?

I recently saw someone I love, who is very close to me, post a passive aggressive picture in which belittled one individual's courage to emphasize another's. I got very emotional about this. While I understand and respect our difference of opinions, for me to see such a hurtful and negative post to "get the point across" was baffling to me.

So I started to write. And I wrote and wrote and wrote. I wrote strong words of anger, of opposition, and I felt myself sinking into a very negative space. So I deleted everything and begin to write from a different perspective. I needed to say something. I needed the negativity to stop. I needed to feel like I could change what the world is going through right now. So I started to write as a mother.

I thought about blocking and deleting what bothered me on facebook. But how can I live like that? It's not realistic for me to stop seeing the negative. That doesn't void it out and make it not still very much alive. Being a parent gives me many opportunities to take the negativeness of the world and change it. Even if it's only through one child.

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Being a parent gives me a chance to raise a human in a really difficult world to be grateful for his opportunities and to also use them to help and encourage others. I can help the universe create an open-minded, strong, and supportive individual, even when.. especially when the world seems to sometimes lack those qualities.

I can help him help others. I can teach him how important it is to respect himself, others, and most of all the earth. His opinions and views are not the only ones filling the world, but if he works hard enough and cares deeply enough, he can use his thoughts, feelings and ideals to make the world a better place.

I can show him how, even though he may not live through certain tragedies, his heart can ache and break with those who are living it. I can let him know it's okay to stand up against something if he truly thinks it is wrong. And more importantly, to stand strongly with those he believes in.

I can hold him when he cries and help him understand when he is angry. I can share tears and laughter with him, and explain how each are very cathartic. I can show him how a hug can heal and a smile can save.

I can show him that family is not just made of blood, but of a lifetime of bonds.

I am able to teach him that judgement is not for him to give, or for him to take to heart. That education is one of the strongest tools he will be given. And that his heart is the strongest thing he will be able to give.

I can tell him that love and acceptance do not come with terms and conditions.

I can encourage him to be brave in whatever it is he needs to do, and let him encourage others in their own bravery.

I can show him that life takes people to all different places, and when another's path crosses his, to cherish it. It may join him for a while or remain a quick crossroad he goes through; I can teach him how both are equally just as important.

I can teach him not only to say "thank you," but to feel truly thankful.

I can try to help him understand when sometimes people hurt one another. This one will be something him and I continue to learn the rest of our lives.

But most importantly, I can show him he has a voice, and that his life will reflect how he chooses to use it.

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Ok, buddy, let's go. We are going to change the world.

Excuse me? What did you say?

I shouldn't judge any one else's parenting. Obviously I'm not perfect either. Vedder still sleeps with me every night. Every. Night. He eats only bow tie pasta for lunch and dinner every day. Every. Day. And probably 100 other things that I do "wrong" or differently than other parents. So I try really hard not to judge. 

This is so difficult for me. Mainly because I was a teacher before being a mom, so judging parents was like part of the job. Now being a parent I realize, this shit ain't easy. 

However, one way to get me to judge you real fast as a parent is letting me hear the way you speak to your child. I am far from calm and cool all the time. But if ANYTHING, the way I parent can be described in one quote :

"The way we talk to our children becomes their inner voice." 

So you can imagine my judgement when I heard a mom say to her maybe ten year old son, "Stop whining. Jeez. You should have been a girl with all the complaining you do." 

Umm what? Mom, you are a woman, which means you were once a girl. So this type of statement is baffling to me. However, the more I thought about it the more infuriated I became. Not only does this statement make your son feel inferior, it makes him feel so because it states that the opposite sex in a way is inferior. In a world where gender identity and equality is still so not equal, I am so confused as to why a parent, especially a mother, would put such a bold and loaded statement like this into her child's brain. Now the whole whining aspect is not what I am concerned about. Do I know women who whine? Plenty! I am a whiner myself. Do I know men that do it as well? Tons! Whining is not the issue here, Dude. 

The issue is that some parents don't realize the extent of what they say and how it may resonate throughout the rest of their child's life. Saying this type of thing to your son will now give him the feeling that he has the right to say this to others. Like other women. Or other men. Continuing the cycle that girls are inferior to boys because they whine and boys that whine aren't men and no one is equal. 

This may seem like a long stretch to some but it is statements like this why we as a society don't see everyone as equal. I have had children in my class refuse to play with toys because they were a certain color. "Pink is for girls. You can't play with that." "I can play with this baby because he has a blue shirt on right? So that means this baby is for boys to play with?" Really. I come across these comments/questions more often than you can imagine. Three and four year olds gender stereotyping toys, and essentially categorizing each other as different instead of equals. Three and four year olds! No child comes to their own conclusion of colors identifying gender at this young of an age. It is all implanted thoughts from their environment. 

We, as parents, are our child's first and most important teacher. The way we live our lives, the way we treat others, the beliefs we have, our children see all of these things and look up to them. The way we talk to our children is the way they will learn to talk to others.  

Like I said, I am far from a perfect parent. There is no such thing. But one thing I vow to do it alway encourage him (and every student that enters my classroom) to express his feeling and himself as he sees fit and for him to always encourage others to do the same. I like to think that one day, kind words, encouragement and acceptance will become the norm and everything else will just seem silly. 

Baby on the Go

My son is now seven and a half months. Crawling, pulling himself up on every possible box or shelf or piece of furniture to stand, and tumbling down to the ground with a loud thud. All of this making my heart so excited and extremely nervous. And that is only in our apartment, never mind when we travel!!

I was born and raised in Massachusetts, and since meeting my husband four years ago ((and moving to NYC nine months after meeting him)), I have probably traveled between the two states around thirty times. I have done most of the traveling by bus and car. However, in December 2010, we took Amtrak for the first time and fell in love!! Since Vedder has been born, he has traveled to Massachusetts four times, twice on Amtrak and also loved it.

Just to clarify things, I do not work for Amtrak at all, nor am I getting paid for this blog post. I am just an extremely satisfied customer, and want to get the word out to other families.

The first time Vedder and I took the train from New York Penn Station to South Station Boston was Thanksgiving Day 2011. Now I am not saying that Amtrak completely takes away all the stresses of traveling with a child, especially an infant, but they sure do make it easier. In November, Vedder was almost four months old. I had a huge stroller, carseat, diaper bag, purse ((which for me is a large bag)) and rolling suitcase. My husband brought us to Penn Station to help me with all the luggage. Of course my genius thinking of taking a 2pm train on Thanksgiving Day because it would save me $75 as opposed to traveling the day before or after the holiday didn't quite work out. I did not factor in that Penn Station is also on 34th street like Macy's. Yep. I completely did not factor in at all that while I would be trying to lug my whole life in 3 bags and a stroller, there would be those thousands upon hundreds of people who come to New York this one time of year to see the nations biggest parade. On the same street I needed to catch a train. Like I said, I'm a genius.

However, once we got there the employees of Amtrak were so helpful my very frazzled state was quickly calmed. They even allowed my husband to help get Vedder and me settled on the train even though he was not joining us on the trip. Many times throughout the four hour trip, a train worker approached me to see if I needed anything, even offering to get water from the cafe cart for us. So nice!!

Our second trip to Massachusetts was just a couple weeks ago. And I feel like as my son gets older, my brain gets fried a little more. On this trip, right after leaving Penn Station I realize I didn't print out my ticket from the kiosk. I only had a receipt of purchase email!! After having to purchase another ticket on the train, a worker gave me all the paperwork, explaining how to get a full refund for the previously purchased ticket. And then when leave Boston a few days later, because of said fried brain, we missed our scheduled departure. The man at the ticket booth was so calm and helpful, I didn't even have the chance to worry and freak out before he called a Red Hat over to help me and store my bags until the next train to New York. Phew!!

The designation between cars - cafe, business, quiet, and coach - makes it very easy to not feel like I am that obnoxious person with the child laughing, singing, and yelling on the train. The scenery of the northeast route from NYP to BOS is beautiful. While Vedder naps I am constantly snapping pictures of the gorgeous new England towns as they fly by. Then when he is awake we are either looking out the windows together, playing with toys on the seats, or walking to the cafe car where they have fresh fruit cups that I am able to slice up and share with him.

The only thing I would change, or have Amtrak add to better the experience for traveling families, are changing tables. Traveling with an infant as often as I do four hours is a long time to go without a diaper change. And even though the handicap bathrooms offer enough space for me to put a changing pad on the floor, the sanitary aspect of that is not appealing at all.

The Amtrak train to Boston passes right past our apartment in Queens and over the park we go to weekly. My husband and I are teaching Vedder that this is the train to Nana and Grandad's house. Even though he may not understand what we are saying, he definitely understands the noise of the train and stares up at it as it zooms. U.

Our next trip to Massachusetts is at the end of the month. I am very excited to be seeing my family again so soon and am looking forward to another pleasant experience traveling.

A letter to my best friend and soon-to-be mama

Dear best friend,

You are pregnant! The whole world is excited!! I don't think anyone on this earth deserves to be a parent more than you. Since we were little, you have always had the most compassionate personality. With everything you have been through to bring you to this day, you have conquered it all so gracefully. When it felt like everything was against you, you still smiled and pushed through. My love for you has 26 years of your unconditional friendship behind it and I cannot thank you enough for that. For all of these reasons and so many more, you are going to be an amazing mother. 

Now I know I started this blog writing about some of my aggravations with pregnancy and parenthood. But this letter to you is from one mumma's heart to another. 

First, through these last couple of months, resist the want to punch anyone in the face that tells you "Sleep now because you won't be after baby is born." You won't sleep normally through the last few months of pregnancy, or after he is born, or ever again. And after a couple years you'll get used to it and it will be ok. It'll actually be great. The reason you aren't sleeping is because this little guy you created needs you. He needs your help, your love and your comfort. He will eventually sleep through the night but you still won't. Remember that book our moms used to read to us as kids, I'll Love You Forever? Yeah well you will be that mom that even after he falls asleep, will crawl into his room, hold him just for a couple extra minutes. Why would you do that? Want to sneak into a sleeping child's room, risking the chance that you'll wake him? Because you're sleep deprived and can't think straight. And because you created this little human and it is the best feeling in the world and every chance you can get to give him love, you will.

Another thing, don't be disappointed when labor goes nothing like you had planned. I really wish someone told me this. I ridiculously, but whole heartedly, thought I could actually have control of all of that. And well it killed me that not even the smallest things worked out the way I had wanted. But now two and a half years later I can write this letter to you and say don't waste your time planning any of it. Whenever and however that beautiful newborn gets put into your arms, smile and let everything else go. 

A baby changes your marriage. It does. No one told me this either. You're no longer just husband and wife. You're mama and daddy. This may seem like a pretty obvious thing, but it's a bigger concept than, well, a new parent can wrap her head around. You and your family of two are no stranger to hard work as a couple. You have both defied so many odds that this could be something you both just laugh at. But when sleepless nights get the best of you, or your parenting skills of a little defiant toddler seem to be drastically different, or any part of this journey into parenthood makes you two scared,  it is important to remember you're not in it alone. And it's important to keep reminding yourself that too because sometimes we all forget. 

The heartache from anything you have ever felt in your life with be nothing compared to your child's first big booboo. Oh god. It still hurts. It will hurt you more than him. But you're both get through it. Him sooner than you. 

There is no such thing as a perfect mama. You're going to make mistakes, a lot of them. You're going to sometimes have no clue why your baby is crying and have no way to help him. This is ok, mostly because he probably doesn't know why he is crying either. And when he gets older, you're going to make mistakes too. There are days where you will have 100% energy to be a super mom and take on his crazy little imaginative world and fill him up with even more important emotional tools for life. You will take him places and teach him things. You will show him the many different worlds outside your home. And these days will be beautiful.. but exhausting. And there will be days where you don't have that energy. Where the tv will be on all day and all he has eaten is animal crackers. You've accomplished nothing except maybe showering, and he has watched the same episode of sesame street for past three hours. You need these days. Even though your guilt may overcome you about not being a "good" parent, remember, you need these days. Life is about balance. So is parenting. No day is perfect. We wake up not knowing what it will bring. The same is with being a parent. Part of being a great parent is finding the balance in between all of the days. 

One last thing. This has been my proudest one to conquer (mostly because all of the above that I have written, in one way or another I'm still dealing with).  Don't worry about your body, now or after. Because you're gorgeous. You always have been and always will be. Every boy wanted to be your boyfriend when we were younger and now the two best boys in the world ((well one to be coming into the world soon)) have you!! Even if you never get back to "pre-baby body" it doesn't matter. The one thing I have let go of is that goal of being back to pre-baby. And I couldn't feel better about myself. Dude, I made another human being, I can keep on these few extra 25 pounds. I've earned that! 

So here is my letter to you. Of crazy, emotional, mama things. I think this letter was more for myself than you, but I am so excited to watch you on this journey. The love you have in your heart is no match for what is about to come. Some days it will fill so much it hurts. And some days it will just hurt. These are all good things. I love you so much and cannot wait to be this very lucky baby boy. 

Finding my balance

Well it is 6:30 am on a Saturday, and because my mind is on auto alarm for 5:20 am for the week, I am awake now while everyone else is sleeping. So I am deciding to write.  But to be honest, I'd much rather be sleeping. 

So maybe I will start off this "Saturday Morning Insomnia" post with a look into the other person who is on this WTF-am-I-doing ride that we call parenthood.

Michael and I celebrated 4 crazy years of mah-widge (the Princess Bride was to say it is the only way to say it) in December. Four friggen years! It's crazy to me. This may seem like a small feat or even still the honeymoon stage to some but for me, well I have a problem committing to absolutely anything. So, high-five, Hubby! Looks like I am on the right track! But to be honest, he makes it really easy..

A few things about Michael (my husband, not my dad -see other post- now we're back to this weird Freudian thing again):

I am married to a rock'n'roll singing, dish washing, best dad in the world shirt owning, dinner cooking, house cleaning, laundry doing, converse wearing all-star. Seriously. I'm spoiled. 

In my completely right-side-of-the -brain-parenting technique, I cannot be a good mom without completely destroying our apartment. I'm not kidding. I am worse than Vedder. A mom who makes more of a mess than her two year old son. Our lovely dining table is permanently covering in paint from various projects. We are still finding confetti glitter around the apartment from new year eve sensory bottles. I have a half done chalk mural on V's wall in his bedroom ((see earlier comment about not being able to commit to anything)). 

When I come home from work during the week, dinner is always ready. Always. Sometimes when Michael comes home on the weekends, he's lucky if his son has even had one full meal the whole day, nevermind a full dinner being cooked. Not that he always keeps his cool about all the mess, but who would? I even want to punch me in the face sometimes for half the crap I do. However, he does know he married an ADHD self-proclaimed artist who cannot commit to change long enough to make it stick. But I guess that's what made him fall in love with me, right? My beautiful free spirit? The way I can just go with the flow? Or my amazingly creative brain? 

No, it was none of that. We met on a blind date. The reasons he fell in love with me was alcohol and the fact that I have a big butt and nothing else. 

So here's a big THANK YOU! to the man who absolutely and willingly deals with my crazy antics and scattered brain. Thank you for teaching Vedder how to do things like hang up his jacket while I teach him about how we can open the window and take all the snow off of the sill to play with it on the kitchen floor. Thank you for putting us both to bed at night. Thank you for creating such balance in my life. And thank you so much for truly loving me through all of this craziness that you have fully committed to. 

You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. 

Funny thing happened on the way to see Santa..

..Well actually, on the way home after seeing Santa. 

Our two and a half year old was in full Scrooge mode last night yelling "no Santa! No tree! No lights!" for our annual holiday walk through Manhattan last night. Despite a few tantrums and obviously not at all being humbled with holiday spirit, we made it through the night with a few nice photos. 

On our way home we had to stop to grab Vedder a new sippy cup for bedtime. This is when full meltdown mode began. Trying to be calm and talk him through it didn't work, so the "no toys, trains or tv" came into play. We made our exit out of the store, grabbed slices to-go for dinner and headed home. There the three of us began to calm down and slowly unwind. While eating dinner this little voice said "Mumma, I want to say sorry to dada" (he had hit during his tantrum an hour before and that's when the "no toys when we get home" went into effect). I said "Ok. Dada is sitting right here. You can tell him" With these big puppy dog eyes and a little soft, shaky voice, Vedder said "So sorry Dada I hit." Our hearts exploded! He was beginning to think about his actions and was coming to apologize on his own! THIS IS HUGE! Michael and I smiled and looked at each other. We shared that "F-- yeah! We got this parent thing down pat!" 

That was until we heard what he said next. 

With out even breathing. "ok sorry Dada. Now I play trains" 

What? You just pulled that to get what you want and not because your mumma and dada have instilled compassion and the concept of learning right from wrong in you?!?! Damn it! That little sh-t! Are you kidding me? Two and a half and he' already calculating "I'm sorry so I can get my way." I was sure we had at least ten more years before the mischievous calculating went on in that little brain of his. 

No he didn't get toys or trains or tv. But he did knock down our parenting ego a notch. 

And now I can't help thinking that my karma is coming back to me.. in full force.  Damn it. 

Sorry, mom. 

The weekend we just lived.

I like to think I'm a good mom. I make time each night after work to sit and play, read or even watch TV with my son. I teach preschool during the day and then at night bring home exciting surprises like ABC flash cards to play with or play dough for of course fine motor. (Neither of these things does he truly care about but someday my future Harvard Grad will thank me.) On weekends I get no housework done because I would rather take Vedder all over the city discovering new things. We go to music class, the park, museums. I snap photos of our every adventure and post our moments on instagram and Facebook. Then the "likes" and comments come rolling in and I smile that people think these moments are as beautiful as I do. This past weekend was different. My last post was of a very happy toddler hamming it up in his car seat ready for his first official getaway with just mumma and daddy. Last post at 8 pm Friday night, goodbye new york and your busy streets. hello vermont and your amazingness, read the caption.

Now for some of you you're probably thinking "And? So you went a weekend without posting on Facebook? So what?" Others know how hard that task actually is. (I do have to admit, I did sneak in one instagram post on our car ride home Monday afternoon) I'm not an addict. I could probably go a week without posting no problem. But for my husband who believes I truly have an addiction, I made a promise not to post or even check Facebook for an entire weekend. I never thought it would actually have a serious impact. But it did.

Instead of instantly sharing funny, beautiful, or aggravating moments with my family online, I just lived them. I looked for no comments or likes or any sort of gratification via social networking. I just lived the moments, still snapping pictures, but it ending with that. Then I continued living.

In one moment, I tried to capture the perfect family photo and got aggravated because I couldn't stand the way my husband was unenthusiastically smiling and the way my face looked because the wind was blowing my hair everywhere. Vedder continued to just sit there smiling his ass off and of course looked perfect in every picture. This session ended with me and Michael screaming at each other and Vedder teaching himself how to hit the button and run to the couch before the timer finished and the camera flashed. This lightened the mood and we lived on.

Maybe it was the wine tasting earlier in the day mixed with the beers we were drinking, but in another moment I forgot about me and was just Mumma. Sitting at a table at Long Trail Brewery while having dinner, I bent towards Vedder, and he ran his car from my shoulder over my head back and forth creating a tangled mess. He laughed hysterically as I made obnoxiously exaggerated squeaks of "What are you doing to mumma? There's a car on my head!" I remember reading a mom's blog about getting in the picture. No matter that she hadn't lost the baby weight or didn't have makeup on or her hair done, she got in the picture with her son. This is exactly what I thought of as two matchbox cars rolled over my head, back and forth. When I would usually sit back and quickly fix my hair and find something else to entertain Vedder, I instead just sat there, with cars in my hair. Vedder isn't going to remember what my hair looked like, and to be honest, probably won't even remember the moment at all. But in the moment he laughed "haha mumma! Cars!" repeatedly and I will never forget it.

Our last moment of our family vacation was definitely less than perfect. As we settled back in at home, unpacking and getting ready for the work week, Vedder got ready for bed. Michael asks me where Ted (Vedder's bear that goes absolutely EVERYWHERE) is. As we begin to search, we both get a bad feeling. He was left in the rental car. I frantically called Hertz while Michael continues to search the house. No one was answering. There was a few inches if snow already on the ground and the wind was whipping more snow around. Not to mention it was freezing out. No hope. What if he fell out in the street while we unpacked the car? We went out to search. He had to be in the car. NO ONE IS FUCKING ANSWERING!! We were freaking out. Vedder was just sitting watching Backyardigans, having no clue the chaos and stress going on around him. Michael put his shoes and jacket on and walked 28 blocks in the snow to the rental car company. I put Vedder to bed trying to distract him with a bottle, a few bunched up blankets and other stuffed animals in hopes that he would be to distracted to notice Ted was gone. Five minutes later "Is Ted? Ted? Is Ted?" I called my parents and cried. After an hour or so waiting at Hertz, Michael called. "Got him!" He was found outside the old rental under inches of snow. I was so happy I cried again.

Three days of traveling, eating, playing in the snow, shopping, cooking, taking pictures, laughing, loving, loosing Ted and then finding him. Three days of living together as a family of three and nothing else. In all its craziness it was perfect.

And now as I share these moments on my blog, Facebook and twitter, you're probably thinking? Well what's the point, you just contradicted yourself by writing this entire post. The point of my weekend wasn't giving up ever sharing photos and stories. It was just giving up instantly sharing them. This weekend allowed me to live the moments, appreciate them and reflect on them. And then share with the world :)

Yes, my child just RAHH'd at you.

Well I know I haven't written a blog post in 6+ months. Or I should say I haven't posted one. I have about eight in the draft box but never seem to finish them. So here is a quick overview of the past few months..

Vedder started daycare around 10 months old and I got a full time teaching job at a preschool in July and love it but barely get to see Vedder so I overly make up for it by taking him to the zoo, park, museum, etc every weekend. His first birthday party went off great but then he got the stomach bug on his actual birthday so we never got to give him a cake and now he is 15 months going on 15 years old and I have no clue what I am doing.

This is exactly how my life feels right now - a long run-on sentence with no break. At the same time, while life seems to feel exhausting, I could not be happier! Vedder is growing into his own personality (oh, and what a personality it is!). I absolutely love being in my very own classroom. And my marriage seems to be in the best place it has ever been!!

But enough about all the happy things. Parenting is where I feel like I have absolutely no clue what I am doing. While Vedder's verbal and fine motor skills seem to be up to par ((due to my obsessive behavior to make sure he remains well educated even at 15 months)), it feels like sometimes I am dealing with a teenager! He has begun the temper tantrum phase where he will dramatically throw himself on the ground or strain to push tears out of his eyes if he doesn't get what he wants. As soon as the first tear falls he runs to me or my husband hugs our legs and throws his head back like it is the absolute end of the world. It truly is an Oscar winning performance. I have video taped a couple bouts and replayed them for him ((a tactic I have heard works with some children)) but initially thought maybe he wouldn't understand. When he watched the videos he laughs so hard at himself. That's when I realized we're screwed.

Along with the temper tantrum, there is hitting when he gets angry at us for taking something away ((or removing him from the kitchen after he successfully puts toys in the oven)). I sternly grab his hand and loudly say "No! We do NOT hit!" Surprisingly that stops that behavior in its tracks. But his newest this is.. well I don't really know what to call it.. growling, I guess. He makes this loud roar/yell at everyone. I mean everyone. When I come in smiling to take him out of the crib in the morning - RAHH! When the waiter wants to clear our table after we're done eating - RAHH! When the nice woman, man, cashier, grocer, person leans over and says "Hi little boy, how cute is he!" - RAHH! Everyone gets a RAHH! I smile, mortified and embarrassed, and say "Oh Vedder we don't yell like that at the nice people. We say hi!" ...RAHH!

Fabulous.

It's funny because going through the new born phase a year ago, I always thought that was going to be the hardest part about becoming a parent. That phase where you lose your independence and 100% of your energy goes to now taking care of this child 24 hours a day. Then they begin to sit up, crawl, eat on their own, walk, run, fall, get hurt, become picky eaters, want to play with the gas stove or microwave their trains. Then you sit in the middle of the floor exhausted having been climbed all over, punched, bit, hit with a toy, and feel defeated. As you put your head down, covering your face with your hands and take a big breathe as not to scream at the top of your lungs, you begin to hear giggling. You uncover your face, looking up, seeing a very happy, healthy, smart, beautiful child who thinks all you are doing is getting ready for a new game of peek-a-boo. 

Damn it. I do love being a mom.