You're Feeling Better Already

Let me start by stating the obvious: parenthood is a tough job.  You make hard decisions every day.  You try to do the best you can while stretching your time, money, and patience beyond the snapping point.  And at the end of it all, no matter how the day has gone, you question whether or not you did the right things.  Spent enough time with the kids.  Told them "no" at the right times and "yes" as much as you could.  Doomed them to years of therapy by yelling at them for tearing holes in the knees of their pants.  Permanently stunted their growth by feeding them Twinkies.

No matter how confident we normally are, we all question our skills as parents at some point, and wonder if we're just plain screwing up at Adulthood in general.  And to some degree, we all measure ourselves against other parents, no matter how many times The Experts tell us that every child, every situation, every household is different.  Maybe we want to gauge how our Parenthood Performance stands up to someone else's, maybe we hope to get helpful tips from someone who seems to successfully juggle work, laundry, dinner, PTA meetings, and play dates while managing to maintain magazine-perfect hair.  Most likely, I think we just want confirmation that we're normal.  Okay, maybe a little bit better  than normal.

In this regard, I'm happy to be of assistance.

I thought about that last Tuesday when I was at the dentist's office getting my teeth cleaned.  Gerry was there to entertain Maddie, which I don't think was much of a problem because A) she's adorable and 2) the waiting room has a kids' area that puts Chuck-E-Cheese to shame, as far as entertainment goes (Chuck still has them beat in the Total Number of Germs Per Square Inch department, though).

When the hygienist saw Mads, she said that she has a baby about the same age.  Two mothers of small babies in the same room?  Let the comparisons begin.

Does your daughter crawl?  Has she said "Mama?"  Does she eat well?  Does she still have stranger anxiety?  How many hours does she sleep?  And on and on and on...

When we got to the crawling question, I admitted, "We sort of spoil Madeline.  She doesn't really crawl, but then again we rarely put her down for long, so we're probably stunting her development."

"It's true, they are."

"I know what you mean," she sympathized.  "Whenever my daughter takes a nap, I know I should  put her to bed so I can clean for an hour, but sometimes I can't resist just holding her while she sleeps."

"If it makes you feel any better," I said, "we worked like crazy to get Maddie's nursery ready before she was born, and so far she's slept in her own crib... maybe twice, for a grand total of about 36 minutes."

From the astonished look on her face, I think it did  make her feel better.

So I started to think, Sheesh, you think THAT'S bad?  I screw up on a semi-constant basis.  People could read a fraction of the slap-dash ways I run this operation, and feel like parenting rock stars by comparison.

And thus, this list was born.  Please feel free to peruse these topics for any area in which you might be feeling a tad inadequate, and I believe you'll find some information (all 100% true, sadly) about me that will perk you right up.

Stuff I've Done That Will Make You Feel Better About Yourself As a Parent and As a Human Being In General

HOUSEWORK
Feeling down on yourself because you're having trouble keeping your house spotless?  Consider this:

• Not only do we have a ceiling fan in our living room (I think you get about 50 Interior Decorator Demerits for having a ceiling fan these days) but every time we turn it on, a flurry of dust chunks come fluttering down onto our coffee table, because I never dust the top of the blades.  Sometimes this happens when we have company over.  This does not make a good impression on our guests, especially if their beverages are on the coffee table.
• Although our basement is blissfully bug-free most of the time, about a week ago I noticed a cricket outside the door to the laundry room, on the family room floor.  Thankfully, it had already died of natural causes, so I didn't have to interact with it in any sort of a violent way.  However, I still haven't gotten rid of the carcass, even though it would only take about four seconds to do.  Instead, I just cringe and take a GIANT step over it (I don't want to accidentally touch it, for God's sake) every time I have to go through there with a basket of clothes.

FASHION
Has making parenting a priority put your style on a distant back burner?  Read on.

• I know there are some ladies who change their purses daily to match their shoes.  I can't even change my purse often enough to keep up with the seasons.  Or the year.  Right now I don't even have a purse, I have a gigantic diaper bag, but before that I carried a "summer" purse (bright blue with iridescent butterflies on the side), which I had purchased on sale at the gift shop in the hospital where I worked  (it just keeps getting better, right?), for several years,  ignoring the fact that the design scheme was not exactly intended to match snow boots.  At Christmastime last year I went through my bags to see if there were any I could donate to Zoe's dress-up clothes, and I found the one I used to carry prior to The Blinding Butterfly Bag.  That purse contained: an account number card for a closed bank account, frequent shopper cards for three stores that no longer exist, ticket stubs from two movies and I concert I don't remember seeing, and a library card from the town I lived in 13 years ago.  Needless to say, my purses are not exactly on the cutting edge of fashion.
• Yesterday morning it was high time that I changed the long-sleeved shirt I'd been wearing over my tank top, as it was smeared with yogurt and applesauce and was starting to exude a questionable odor.  I was in the kitchen at the time, so I balled it up with the kitchen towel, which was also starting to get a little sour, and tossed them in the laundry basket.  Somehow, before I knew it, eight hours passed and I found myself still in my tank top when it was time to go pick up the kids from school.  Suddenly I was in a hurry, and reluctant to put a CLEAN shirt on my still-dirty self, so I did what I had to do - I fished the other one back out of the laundry.  Yes, when it was already filthy and, on top of that, had spent the entire day marinating in a basket of other dirty clothes.  Hey, don't pretend like you've never done it.  I'm not saying I'm proud, I'm just saying that when the parents are gathered to wait for their kids in the schoolyard, you are never going to mistake me for Posh Mom.  Besides, it was the perfect match for the leggings I was wearing, which yes, I'd slept in the previous night.  Okay, two  previous nights.

HYGIENE

On a note possibly related to the anecdote above, I find it occasionally (that is to say, every day) difficult to find time to take care of seemingly simple, basic hygiene tasks.  I'll frequently wake with the best intentions of bathing and combing the whirling dervish of hair on my head, but the day will get the better of me and I'll put it off until Gerry gets home, and then until after dinner, and then until the kids are in bed, and then all of a sudden I'm in an exhausted, gritty, snoring heap on the couch prepared to start the cycle again the next day.  Evidently I'm not the only one to have noticed, because yesterday (after the Shirt Incident) I did finally get cleaned up while the kids were visiting Gran.  When they came home, as soon as my observant and candid daughter burst into the room, the first thing she said (surprised, and perhaps with an edge of relief in her voice) was, "Mommy, you showered!"  Keep in mind she determined this while she was still on the other side of the room, which I don't think is a good sign.

SOCIAL LIFE
I should start by saying that I don't have a social life, and also that I'm perfectly fine with that, and also that I'm not sure which of these facts is a bigger issue where this topic is concerned.  But while we're pretty much homebodies, that doesn't prevent me from still managing to exhibit poor social skills.  For example, for several weeks there have been mysterious goings-on at my neighbor's house - electricity being turned off and on, them packing up all their belongings without actually moving, cars coming and going at odd hours - and while I'm burning with curiosity to know what's going on, do you think I'd just casually ask them?  I could easily dig for info any time I see them out on their front lawn, while they're not busy doing anything except for watching their dog poop in our  front lawn.  But no.  Like any socially backwards individual, I peer at their house through parted curtains and then discuss all the various possibilities with my mom later.

CUISINE
I already told you about some of my my issues with cooking this week, but I have plenty of skeletons in my closet in relation to food that should make you feel better about your eating habits.  Why, just today for lunch I had a balanced meal of three forkfuls of leftover lasagna, a handful of barbecue potato chips, and three Oreos.  (Editor's note:  some time has passed since I wrote this paragraph - we'd better make that seven Oreos).  As far as I'm concerned, that's right in line with the ADA's recommendations, and I don't think I'm the only parent who ends up eating whatever they can get their hands on when the opportunity arises - otherwise you might never eat.



PARENTING
Oh, where to begin?

• My efforts to get Maddie interested in solid food are proving to be unsuccessful.  The solid item she most often has in her mouth while in her high chair is the end of the seat's restraint strap, which (per the chart above) has very little nutritional value, and also makes it difficult to fasten the restraints as recommended by the manufacturer.
• I noticed a hole in the leg of Zoe's tights this morning, but we were running late so I just pulled them down low enough that (for now) the hole is hidden under her sock.  Which brings me to...
• I make Zoe wear socks over her tights, because wearing just tights alone with tennis shoes weirds me out.
• Jake has been watching videos on YouTube of stick figures with super-high-pitched voices who mostly punch stuff and/or squash potatoes.  It's hard to explain, and even if I could, it's not worth it.  Anyway, he keeps showing them to me and I keep trying not to make it too obvious that I'm rolling my eyes, but then he showed me one that he  made himself,  and I genuinely thought, This boy is a genius child prodigy and that is the coolest thing I have ever seen,  which essentially removes any doubt about whether or not I have a strong bias in favor of my own offspring.  Not that his video wasn't really awesome and impressive - which it was - but that's like having a lifelong allergy to chocolate and then wolfing down eight pans of brownies just because your kid made them and they're the Best Ever.
• Sometimes while I'm blogging, Maddie's playtime gets a little out of hand.

"Eh, a little help here, please?"

I could go on, but I think you get my drift.  I'm not perfect.  I'm guessing (unless I just happen to be freakishly irresponsible and disgusting) that none of us are perfect.  So any time you're feeling like you don't have it all pulled together and you think you might lose your schmidt, remember this - we're all just doing the best we can.  As long as you aren't giving your kids vodka tonics as after-school snacks to facilitate a 5:30 bedtime so you have more time to watch reruns of Swamp People, then I'm sure you're doing fine.  Don't be so hard on yourself.  Relax.  Have an Oreo.  Or seven.