The Rodeo Monkey

I have to admit to something.  I am sortof losing my marbles lately.  The good news is that I cleaned the entire house today and found THREE marbles!  ha!  I’m three up, suckas!

I just got sidetracked. (exhibit A)

I’m not sure if you know this, but I have a 2.5 yr old.  (Not sure who I think is reading my blog).  I feel an internal / external sense of chaos that I have never before experienced.  I feel like a monkey riding a bucking bronco.  Usually I have a monkey riding me like one.  See, I’m not even speaking in metaphors anymore, this shit is real.

Here’s the thing – I am not very good at mothering a 2.5 yr old.  I am not looking for compliments or pick-me-ups.  I mean this.  I’m not.

It’s OK.  I am good at a lot of things.  I’m really good at focusing on things.  I am really good at reading people.  I am a good cook. I SUCK at 2.5 yr olds.

Maybe everyone does.  I mean, I know they think they do.  It’s intense.

But that is sortof the double whammy here.  I am really not good with intensity.  Meaning, I LOVE it, and can pick up an ounce and increase it to a gallon in three seconds flat.  This is why I’m no good with 2.5 yr olds.  The 2.5 year old always comes out on top.  And that is bad for everyone.

*flashback – Sarah, remember when Thomas went to the hockey game, and the moment he heard that jumbo-tron go off, he lost his shit?  I feel like that.  I get it.  Jonah is the jumbo tron and I am 2 yr old Thomas. *

I am quite patient with Jonah, meaning I don’t treat him poor, or degrade him, or snap at him (too much).  I spend all my time with him, and he loves me.  But 2 yr olds are all about mastering emotions, right? I can’t show him that.  Pushing the boundaries?  I barely even push back. Usually I say “good idea.”

I know that he needs me to be in control right now.  I know that he needs to be the one flailing around, learning how to master his emotions.  I get it.  I just don’t ever feel like I am the one in control, and worse, I fear that because I am not, he is suffering.  I just can’t handle the continuous confrontations and continually having to push back against someone.

I know he isn’t really suffering, but  if this is the prime time for him to learn that he isn’t in charge, and that he can get through BIG emotions, I don’t know that that is happening. How do I KNOW that is happening?

Let’s be honest.  He’s in charge.

Yes, I say no to my kid.  All the time, actually.  And he doesn’t usually throw a big fat fit.  I can only think of once that he threw a BIG fit this week, and that was because he refused to get his pants on so I closed his bedroom door. lol!    But usually, he’ll throw a fit for a minute, then wander away and be perfectly fine.  So, I mean, that’s good, right? That’s “getting through things”?

But I really really really am not good at this.  His WORST thing is that he is SO attached to us, he cannot play alone.  He can with other people.  He is a well-rounded kid.  But in our house, he “can not” do it.  He woke up the other morning, and as I turned the light on, his eyes squinting to adjust to the light, he said, through an almost cry “come play with me,” which is his mantra lately.  I hear that phrase in my nightmares, I tell you! (That was almost as bad as the other day when he woke up at 5 am crying, and came running into my room shouting “I play daddy’s phone?” OMG)

And I try to accommodate him as much as possible.  I am sure that I do it too much for some people’s liking.  I’m starting to think I do it too much for my liking too.  But, it’s hard to know where that line is sometimes. That’s really what a 2.5 yr old is all about.  Moving that line.  I think we’ve got it established, then he rocks the boat and we start all over.

Anyway, the point is that I just want to admit that I am really unsure of myself lately.  I haven’t felt this unsure since leaving the hospital. I just feel like I should say it out loud.  It’s good to remember these things, you know?

That’s all.

I’ll make you some muffins if you come mother my 2.5 yr old.  Yeah?

Don’t Worry, I’ll Pretend to be Surprised

If the show airs March 20th, I figure the ambush has to be next week sometime.  How else could they edit the material in time?  I hope it isn’t this weekend when Dust is taking Jonah on a weekend trip.  Me and Beulah will be a whole bunch of no fun.

Yes, I’m talking about the HGTV Dream Home award and I’m ready for my close-up!

I figure that America loves a “poor family wins a deserving reward” story.  They won’t link to my blog, will they?  America doesn’t like a “crazy woman is seemingly rewarded for her obnoxious attitude” story.

And no, I don’t think we are poor.

But, let me tell you plan b.  It’s a lot suckier.

Plan B entails Dust going on a weekend vacation this weekend with his family and taking Jonah.  Meanwhile, I will be staying home and “cleaning” and “organizing” (read: STRIPPERS!!!)

My plan is to get about 50% of our stuff in the basement storage OUT OF HERE and safely nestled inside a mink shed.  (Hope the racoons like weight lifting while reading Moby Dick!)  This leaves room in the basement for things I sometimes use – like a huge pile of cookbooks, a tennis racket and Dust’s brewing equipment.

My goal is to have NOTHING in the cedar chest.  My goal is to have nothing but a garbage can, a broom, and some liquor in the pantry closet.  This is all the big first step to getting the house sold this year.

That will probably take up the better part of two days, so I’ll end my list here.  But do you now understand?

I promise, oh gods of all the bad karma that I am owed, I will stop showering and cleaning the house now, so that the ambush award is even special-er.  I will be THAT lady on tv for you!  I promise!!! Just please come soon ok?

Thanks.

The Good News…

Something strange thing happened to me last week.  I don’t really feel like writing about it on my blog would be the most appropriate thing in the world, so I shan’t..  BUT…  when strange things happen to me, I can’t shake them.  Other people can.  I watch them shake these things, forget them, shrug them off, let them go.   Me?  I can’t get loose.  These things attach to me; become permanent.

My reality is this: we are all teetering all the time and I am astutely aware of those on the bridge delicately (violently?) vasilating between breakthrough and breakdown.  I would be interested in a scientific study that could detail for me how far away, exactly, each of us ever really moves from that point in the center of the bridge.  Perhaps one day I will stumble upon a scientific study which could test my theory that: “the distance one travels from that point is in equal proportion to the amount of shit that one can overlook.”

That’s science, people.

It is with this mindset that I have watched myself participate in a variety of exercises lately.  Whether or not my hypothesis is ever proven, I think that without a doubt, I have an innate ability to not only NOT overlook even the smallest detail, but magnify the smallest details until they proportionally match what in reality is actually a much larger detail.

I know this as a fact because I find myself seeking the formula that would help me know how many small details it takes to outweigh or overthrow a large detail.

Examples:

• When choosing possible pre-school options, I find myself negating somewhere as a possibility because their online submission form is faulty.  I weigh that in, along with other factors when “normal” people would know better than to pay attention to that.
• I happen to know when each person in my office comes in in the morning, what car some of them drive, and I often see those cars on the highway and wonder if it is my co-worker.  Times this by every detail in my life.

Am I justifying my anxiety?  Absolutely!  That’s a lot of shit to pay attention to.  It explains the proximity I feel I am to that middle of the bridge.

But it’s more than that.  It helps me explain who I am.  It helps me understand why the smallest things in my life seem to have given me some sort of post-tramautic stress disorder.  It is hard to explain to people (not that I have tried out loud, but I have in my mind many times) that YES, you can get post tramautic stress from watching Bambi.  I mean,  maybe YOU can’t, but here’s my DNA, here’s my life experiences, NOW can you see how I can get it?

Now, the part that you have been waiting for.  THE GOOD NEWS!

The good news is that when something like me becoming facebook friends with a friend of my parents who was my neighbor growing up happens, I’m highly aware of the profundity of the experience.  I notice how strong of an emotional reaction that conjures up for me.  I get weepy, wanting to express to him what he really was to me in my youth.  I tie it to the importance of the relationship that I have with my neighbors.  I get weepy again, hoping that in 20 or so years, they may find me on facebook and really NOTICE the affect that friending me has on bringing their “being” into alignment.  I try desperately to be as good to these kids as this man was to me. (good news is they are already facebook friends with me! )

If I were to thus extend my scientific experiment that proved the direct correlation between the distance from the point on the bridge to one’s overall ability to ignore a whole bunch of shit, I think there would be some outliers.  While the majority of individuals with my intense inability to ignore details spend more time violently vascillating across the breakthrough/breakdown line, the outliers do something else.

What do they do?

I’m not sure yet.  I am slowly starting to think, through careful observation, that one possible thing they do is grow accustomed to their frequent proximity to this line, and while their presence near said line continues over time, the behavior of their vascillation changes from violent to delicate; to self aware; to dignified, and they learn to stand there, on that line, with honor.

Big Boy Room

I’ve been gathering stuff for a few weeks – storing them in my basement.  Today was the day to throw together and unveil Big Boy Bedroom – complete with a new power ranger to sleep with.  You know, so that mommy doesn’t have to!  It’s not soft and snuggly.  It kicks some butt with it’s huge blue ranger power sword.  Heyaaaaah!

This room is pretty rad.  It has a nice table / workstation, some kid chairs, NO changing table or rocking chair or crib for us!  Gone are the cute little owls that were on the wall and now we have a Star Wars wall, a Spiderman wall, and an empty wall that will soon be the RED RANGER!

Jonah was really excited for his new room, and I added in a new little train set and the new power ranger to help him really love it (and not notice the crib being gone, ahem).  He previously got real mad when I mentioned moving the crib.  Plus, ever since we did away with the crib, he thinks that we need to go sleep with him, so I had a nice long chat about the blue ranger and how I gave him to him to protect Jonah and sleep with him in his big boy bed that I got today (read: twin mattress on the floor).

Think this will work?  If not, I’m fine with it.  I don’t mind cuddling up with Jonah in bed anymore.  I’m not worried about smothering him or waking him, so I sleep good and so does he.  He’s been real obsessed with mommy lately, so I’m hoping to entice him gently into giving me a little space, but if he isn’t ready, I really could care less.

Also, the kid is completely potty trained!  It took me about a week of suggesting it, took him about a week to get it down, and now we are set!  He wakes up dry in the morning (but still wears a diaper to sleep), and has an accident about once a week where he pees a little before he notices. It’s amazing!  Get ready – here comes another poop story -  So today, he pooped and turned to look at it and said, “Mommy, look, a seal!”

He was totally right, it looked a lot like a seal. And now you know!

It’s sad to suddenly realize you have changed your last poopy diaper.  Almost makes me want to go back and remember when it was just so I can have the memory.  Putting the rocking chair in the basement was hard too, cuz’ I realized that I’d never rock him again.  Well.. not in THAT chair, in THAT spot, in THAT room, anyway. 

But it’s pretty fun decorating a room in things you know your kid is like “into” and will love.

 

 

 

Cat #4 – Nights

Here is what it is like getting ready for bed now….

I get Jonah convinced it’s time for bed.  He walks calmly into bed, an action that makes every cell in my body rejoice.  We get settled in, laying on the floor where he sleeps now.  He says “love” and hugs me.  He stares blankly at the ceiling, which means he is relaxing.

Clomp. Clomp. Crash.

“Cat” he says.  “Get cat!”

You see, the routine is either a) get cat and lock it in mom’s room before bed, or b) when he is on the verge of sleep, the cat does one of the following: a) starts playing with toys in his room, batting around bouncy balls b) starts climbing on us and purring like a damn motorboat, or c) chewing on me (as mentioned earlier).

So, I go to get the cat.  She runs.  I’ll be damned if I’m going to chase a f*ing cat around the house now.  I sit down and pretend I want to pet her. “There cat!” yells Jonah as she comes in from the backporch cat door.  I grab her and throw her in my room.

Let’s talk about the “back porch cat door” for a second.

She has a cat door that goes from the kitchen to the back porch.  It came with the house, but is actually quite a genius idea, because a) I can keep the dog out of the cat food b) I can keep the litter box away from any habitable space, c) when my mom stays at my house with her wonderfully annoying little dog, Olive has somewhere to run to, and d) the cat is kept safely in the house (a poor decision on my part, but largely based on my belief that it isn’t my neighbor’s responsibility to scoop my cat’s poop out of their parking strip).

The cat door lets in a lot of cold air, especially for a child who may or may not be sleeping on the floor in the back bedroom, about 10′ away from said cat door.  The double whammy comes in when you see the OTHER cat door.  This one leading from Jonah’s bedroom to the “attic.”  This one WAS our doing, and is also pretty genius.

The entrance to the “attic” (a finished, yet highly unaccessible space) is also in Jonah’s room.  The attic is the place the cat goes since she is afraid of everything.  If she didn’t have the attic to go into , she’d be hanging out with us, and no one wants that.  It’s a dangerous ladder, the entrance to the attic, so I had to put up a kiddie gate so Jonah can’t get up there.  In fact, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know it really exists.  The space the cat can get through is perfectly large enough to allow any warm air that may have been in his room to be pushed right up into the attic.

Close these off, you say?  Then where would I put the cat toilet?  Where would the cat spend her time?  And most importantly, who would administer Xanax to the rest of the family as the cat tried desperately to claw her way through those two doors every time she saw a spider?  I’ve done it, I know what happens.  Same thing that happens if I lock her in the bathroom.  She SCREAMS, CLAWS, and freaks the F out. Doors in this house cannot be closed.

And so…. to make the story more complex, this night, after I locked the cat up, Jonah didn’t actually go to bed.  The cat got accidentally let out of the bedroom, we attempted night time #2 with Jonah, the cat hadn’t been put away, and luckily he didn’t notice.  But my stomach was in my throat the whole time he fell asleep, because the cat chose motorboat mode, and was sitting right by us purring, slobbering, and trying to rub up against him. I had to have one arm under a sleepy Jonah, and the other wrapped around my own back, petting the cat to keep her in place so she wouldn’t climb on him.

Trust me, mornings are even better!

Paranormal Activities

Jonah is no longer sleeping in his crib.  He’s sleeping right BY his crib.  He refuses to let me move it, or turn it into a toddler bed.  So, I pulled his mattress out and he’s on the floor.  He’s done really well with the transition.  He still wakes up at least one time a night and if I think that is because he pees.  He won’t go potty, however, because he already has in his diaper.Maybe he wakes when he finds himself sleeping under his rocking chair or some such other ridiculous place.

So, at first, when he would wake up, he’d stand in his room and scream. We kept telling him he doesn’t need to get upset, he can just walk wherever he needs to go.  Then he stood in the doorway and screamed.  Then he stood in the kitchen and laughed.

Two nights ago, the first thing I heard was Dust saying “Jonah?” at about 4 am.  It scared the crap out of me!  Apparently he had heard Jonah shuffling through the dining room, but Jonah never said anything.  He just stood in our doorway and stared at us for like 30 seconds. THAT is not creepy or anything!

Last night, I actually heard a little pitter patter before I heard our bedroom door push closed.  Again, he never said a word.  Just locked us in our room.

HAVE YOU EVER SEEN THAT MOVIE!?!?!?! (Paranormal activity)  I keep expecting to look down and see footprints made out of flour on the floor right before the demon drags me from my bed.  The kid is freaking the crap out of me.  I’m sure my brain will get used to detecting the “shuffle” sound where it used to react to the screaming bloody murder sound.  There is a HUGE difference between the two, by the way!

I’m just really looking forward to the time he makes it all the way up on to our bed and I wake up to him, three inches from my face, staring quietly.