DearDR passed his test.
Thank God in his infinite mercy and wisdom.
And, once we’ve settled on a date and a babysitter, we’ll be celebrating at a fine local establishment where we can enjoy this!
(Sorry the images aren’t too sharp.)
For now, the girls and I are heading north to escape the paint fumes. More later!
I am trying to get a little more Zen about the SAHM thing. It’s self preservation on one hand; and on the other, it’s better for the kids. I updated my resume, and I’m still pursuiing the work avenues I want to pursue, but I have to let myself off the hook. Otherwise, no one will be happy.
One successful way of “zenning” has been to clean. I have recently discovered another: arts and crafts. Or, in Monkey speak, “arts and craps.” Priceless.
Given a pair of scissors, some stick glue, some shapes I cut out for her, and even some glitter glue, Monkey can amuse herself for up to half an hour. It’s wonderful!
I also helped her make a card for her cousin’s birthday:
And some Halloween decorations:
And then I one-upped myself. I took it upon myself to design certain elements of Monkey’s Halloween costume. For example, her wand and her tiara:
I learned a couple of things along the way. First off, do the outline last, because you’re just going to mess it up. Also, work from left to right. (Or if you’re left-handed, right to left.)
Finally, symmetry looks better:
Another Zen technique for me: home improvement. I spray painted a wicker basket my mother-in-law offered to me and turned it into a toy box. I am so ridiculously proud of this:
I have also ordered blinds for the front room (I guess what you would call the family room) — kindly financed by Nanny; thank you, Nanny. I have picked out paint colors for the family room and our entrance way, and DearDR is going to paint this weekend. The girls and I are headed north to escape the fumes and hang out with Nonna and Pap-pap. I will be posting before and after pics.
Because I’m kind of impressed with myself right now.
Nothing new to see here. As you may have guessed by my not posting for more than a week. Monkey and I still suffer from inconsistant potty training; although on one hand I am trying to be more consistant — and on the other, Monkey is becoming more resistant.
DearDR took his licensure test a week ago today. We will not know the results for another week or two. We feel as if we are in a Schrodinger’s cat situation.
The only interesting thing that has happened was attending DearDR’s 20th high school reunion. It was fun, believe it or not. The people with whom DearDR went to school were… I don’t know, pretty cool. Easy to hang out with even though I hadn’t met them before. And no, I didn’t have too much to drink.
As a result of meeting the spouse of one of DearDR’s classmates, I am going to try to change my whole getting-a-job approach. I’m going to become more aggressive. I’m also going to rewrite my resume. But it was informative. It was good to get a fresh viewpoint, because I have really been struggling.
Speaking of struggles, I must go clean my kitchen now. Sorry I don’t have anything good. Maybe next time!
Well, okay, here’s a picture of Bun.
But, really, that’s all I got.
When my sister-in-law Earthmother offered to babysit my girls in exchange for a couple of articles on her site, I happily agreed to the trade. This past weekend, she babysat (with her two kiddies along for good measure). As we were leaving, she asked, “So, do you put Monkey on the pot every half-hour or so?”
I thought, “Every half hour? I’m supposed to get her on the potty every half hour? Holy crap, no wonder this potty training thing isn’t taking.”
I didn’t interject this into the last-minute instructions; I simply stuttered something about maybe putting her on the potty now as she had just gotten up from her “nap”, and maybe again after dinner and before bedtime. And then we left, and I have been thinking about Earthmom’s comment since.
And I’m still not putting the Monkey on the potty every half an hour. The potty training is not going well, and it’s probably my fault. Not only am I a reluctant — some days even an unwilling — SAHM, but it is now revealed I am a lazy one as well. Additionally, I find the whole potty training thing frankly disgusting.
I have always had trouble changing diapers of other people’s children (I don’t know how daycare providers do it). I can take the worse that Monkey and Bun dish out with equanimity, but other butts I don’t want to wipe. It makes me gag; always did, which is why I avoided babysitting as a teenager. There were easier ways to make money (like working at the zoo the summer the polar bears were in heat. But that’s a different story…).
Without a doubt, having children puts you right in the realm of the physical, from pregnancy on through… high school probably. I marvel over the bodies of my two girls. Monkey is so straight and strong, especially her legs; and she has a beautiful face, from her deep blue eyes with dark dark lashes (her daddy’s eyes) to her pretty mouth (mine). Monkey was never a fat baby, like my Bun; Bun jiggles when she crawls; she has baby boobies and a Buddha belly. Her thighs are big but strong — she is strong, as the several-times-daily wrestling matches as I attempt to change her diapers prove. I take sensual pleasure in my girls, touching their heads, kissing hands and feet and bellies, holding them.
As close as one gets during erotic love and sexual acts, having a baby is more physically intimate. Caring for a baby is more physically intimate: the breastfeeding, the bathing, the wiping of butts and genitals. The things you do for your children you don’t do for anyone else (I suppose at some point you may have to be pretty close to your parents as they grow older.)
And of course, they are almost nothing but physical beings. Even Monkey with her quick observations and impressive-for-a-not-even-3-year-old vocabulary could not be called a creature of the mind. Bun embodies what I mean right now — everything must be touched, squeezed, shaken, beaten against something else, and tasted. Everything, from the food I give her to whatever the hell she finds under the toilet.
But I have never really had trouble changing their diapers (I certainly don’t get off on it). Yeah, it’s smelly; sometimes you get it on the floor or — worse — your hand. It gets on their clothes, especially those early breastfed-baby mustard poops. It’s just the thing you have to do until, they’re, you know, potty trained.
The other day, however, as I watched poop literally come out of my child’s anus to plop into the potty, I thought, “Hmm, I never thought about being here.” Potty training is the most utterly disgusting thing I have ever had to do in my entire life (so far). I sit there waiting for my child to poop — and I have a pretty intimate view. And then I have to get her wiped up. I’m glad she moved from her training potty to the big potty because now we can just flush the waste away (Monkey cheering, “Bye, pee! Bye, poop! Bye, paper!” when appropriate) instead of having to wipe out the bowl of the training potty. Is it any wonder I am inconsistant?
On top of that, I now hate changing Monkey’s diapers. I want her to be potty trained. I want it to be done except for the inevitable accidents. Now, it’s more like her actually pooping on the potty is the accident.
I need some help here (obviously). Do I have to spend a week at home putting Monkey on the toilet every half an hour? What do I do with my very active, very curious 9-month-old during the potty-sitting sessions? Should I just ditch the diapers and see if Monkey can’t stand the goop? Think of the mess if she just doesn’t care!
Resources and advice are welcome. If you feel the need to criticize… well, be gentle okay? I clearly don’t have a clue.
Red Pen Mama 