Mommy, you should get a new job cause you suck at being Mommy...

Sigh. I know I'm not a failure. I know its a little severe to post with such a dramatic title but that's how I'm feeling this morning. My son just turned 3 at the beginning of August so with birthday cake and party favors comes the new class at daycare. We've been told for the past several weeks now that our son would be progressing to the next class to be with the 3 year olds but what we were told yesterday was a different story.

 

We've know all along that our son has not mastered the potty. Ding ding ding, we do know what we are dealing with here (anyone find a turd in the tub and a duck in the toilet?...). He's an emotional kid so we have to step lightly around certain subjects and make him curious and adventurous to try something new. Well, the potty has not been one of those adventures. More like a miss-adventure. I feel like my son will be ready when he's ready and I've spoken with other mom's who had kids who took a while and other mom's who had their infants on the toilet. He talks about the potty, we leave the door open (#1 NOT #2, over share, I'm sorry), we've got the underpants in the sock drawer, he will sit on the potty then nothing. We've tried rewards, we've tried suckers, we even have a chore board to help encourage him with magnets and nothing. So now, on top of making absolutely no progress at home he's told he can't go to the next class with his friends.

 

Of course I take it personal. I've failed as a parent because my kid is not competitively up to speed with the rest of the kids his age. AAH! I just want to scream and cry and throw myself on the floor until someone passes by telling me that's not going to work (what I tell my son when he throws a fit for candy). That competitive comment, that's a joke by the way. I don't care that my kids don't meet other people's expectations. I get that he's not trained like the rest of the kids in his class (maybe I need to resort to kid gates and newspapers in the kitchen... joke) but you know, I don't really care. I know my son and I know he will get there when he gets there. He said to his daddy yesterday as he was leaving school dissapointed about not having a new name tag for his new class "I'm almost ready daddy". Yes, honey, mommy believes you, you are almost ready. 

 

Its not about training them to follow and be like the rest but train them to be the best little person they can be. Deuteronomy 4:9 Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them.

 

Love you little boo.

 

Maybe this is why I suck at potty training... I just don't know the mechanics...

30 Days of Pinterest....

I'm a pinner. I'm not ashamed, I don't need help, I love my addiction. My problem is I'm a stalker pinner. I pin and pin and pin and pin (when I should be working), pin some more but I rarely ever go home and try what I've pinned. So, September 1, 2012, I will be on a 30 Days of Pinterest journey. Wish me luck... So far I'm going to: re-purpose a men's shirt, make nursing pads, make smelly Vick's knock offs for the shower, appreciate my kid's teachers, make a petticoat, glue all the holes shut in my kids bath toys, pack some plates, put swim noodles in my boots, make some wall art with push pins, make a mirror out of spoons, sew a turtle, sew a tunic, make a tote, sew a boat, write some chores, glue some magnets, bake piggy cupcakes, reuse scrapbook paper, make an overpriced baby carrier and then breathe. Did I mention I have 2 small kids? And a husband I'm confident who will need me food to be cooked? Ekk! I better get started!

Did I mention I only get an hour and a half to save the world?

Now that I've officially returned to work (mentally, physically I've been back for 4 weeks now), my mornings include the chaos of being half-asleep-semi-hysterical with trying to not forget my breast milk and getting out the door on time. Pack the purse, pump, lunch, kids lunch, kids bags and car snacks all in the hour and a half I have to get out the door in the morning and not be late to work. I have a husband,a good one, but it wouldn't sound so dramatic if I said he helped me.

What I didn't mention in my morning ritual was my hostage negotiator skills trying to dress a 3 year old and the fashion runway show of clothes going on and off my 4 month old (I still have clothes in the drawer that she's grown out of...). Did I mention that I only get an hour and a half in the mornings to save the world? I constantly panic over the feeling that if I didn't forget something for the kids then I must have forgotten to turn off my curling iron (kind of like OCD and ADHD packed in a short 5'2" frame).

 

After successfully getting in the truck with no time to spare, I take both my kids to be raised by someone  else for 8 hours of my day (at least its not by wolves) then I spend the rest of my day gazing at pictures of them on my social network to make sure I don't forget what they look like. If missing my kids during the day wasn't bad enough, I return to work meeting demands of everyone asking me in 1 day what they've needed to know for the past 12 weeks. Sigh. Now added to my daily routine at work I have to find time to go pump 3 times a day where I'm fairly confident anyone can hear the romantic sound of my Medela Pump In Style going "waka waka waka" through the door.

So this is my day. Up at 5am, herd the kittens (can't wait until Runchkin starts to walk, will be fun chasing 2), pack the snacks,  hit the road and off to work.

Did somebody say boobs?

No, if you accidentally found my blog thinking you would actually see boobs I'm sorry to disappoint you. This blog is about me and my journey as a mommy of 2 in a world where Kindergartners go to school with cell phones and "Tweeting" and "Pinning" are no longer for the birds and the housewives. I'm a happy mommy of a 3 year old son and a 4 month old daughter who have truly shaped me into a better person than I ever knew I could be (well, by shape, I don't mean willingly accepting the "road map to my soul" stretch marks from their pregnancies...). They call me mommy. They cry for me, they cry at me, they throw up on me, that poop on me, they need food from me, they steal my side of the bed, they give me their germs, they steal my phone, one of them chews on my shirt, leave crackers in my purse, hid race cars in my shoes and I know that's not the end of the list of what they will do to me but I don't remember who I was before I found race cars in my boots. They have melted their daddy's heart too (did I mention I do have a husband, a good one, and surprisingly they don't give him the enjoyment of doing any of the above to him, he gets off lucky somehow...) and made him a huge sucker who I'm afraid will be handing over the checkbook and keys to the car in the future. Stay tuned!