Wednesday, August 29, 2007

People and places

Having been raised with goats, I am not, by nurture, a people person. And moving every few years growing up means that one place is as good to me as another, mostly. But you don't keep the house if the mortgage is too much, and you don't need to be around people that are bad for you. So even though I do get attached to things and people, I try not to keep bad habits.

There are people who are different from me. They will keep and unneeded possession or unhealthy relationship until it drags them into a stinking pit of frustration, commitment and dependency. Right now all I have to say is this: Stop it.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Little Girls

On September 10th the day care gets its first boy. Up until this point it's been Ms. Domesticrazy's Academe for Vegetarian Ladies. (I'd use my first name but it's unusual, and I want to protect the children. The CHILDREN!) At that point I will begin making more money than I did at my corporate job. At that point the majority of our income won't come from the county. At that point I'll have a family splitting daycare until they get their son in, well, not quite at that point. When he's born. But wow. I'm doing OK at this. I'm getting better. I'm having more fun, and so are the kids. So I'm back in a good place, unlike July. The July from hell. And we're thinking about spawning again.

Now I read a few blogs, and I love the stories there. The blogs I like are written by parents, but they are my kind of parents. These people have tattoos, they swear like sailors, and they fuck up like the rest of us. There is one exception to this: Bad News Hughes. Funny fucker, a great writer, and someone who strikes a chord. But for the most part, I read about people who are as clueless as I am about our children, and love them all the more for it. People with a sense of humor. People that are crazy, addicted, loving, funny and have fucked up Jerry Springer bits in their lives; intelligent people. Not all the crazy and bad luck happens to White Trash. Life craps and smiles on us all equally. But all the other insight in the world tells you if you can 1) handle, 2) want and 3) are ready for another child. I've been batting the idea back and forth for a few months now, and I think I'm getting myself ready. I'm not quite there, but it's close.

I don't know why I'm not ready yet: I love my daughter, I love kids, I want another little one and I like the act of making babies. So what the fuck? I think it's our Doo. She's awesome. She's my favorite person other than her father (I have to call tie here) and I'm afraid to hurt her. I want her to have a sister or brother. But I don't want her to feel like the second fiddle and I don't want to, let's face it, fuck her up. She's been so loving and sweet to me lately. I don't want her to ever feel like she's not my Number One Kid. We've got a fairly good thing going now, and it's nice. And then there's the "want another kid" urge. It's a boring problem to anyone that's not me, and probably wouldn't be entertaining for anyone else. But hell, it's my little shop over here. And if the things I mull over don't come out I go on decorating sprees. So I continue:

We just got through the month of hell. I guess the big monster here is that i don't ever want to go through that again. She was miserable, we were miserable. She's just getting over it. Maybe I need to as well.

Friday, August 24, 2007

I'm going to have to get really good at something

My God: I want to shave my legs.

It's been a week, maybe two, since the razor last met the hair, and although I'm not at yeti level yet, I'm not going to win any hot legs contest anytime soon. It's not that I lack a razor, or shaving cream, it's that when I have the energy I don't have the time, etc. Plus we have one of those 4' by 4' shower stall things, so shaving my legs either involves angling the shower head into a corner as best I can, pulling my leg straight up and balancing while I get into my upkeep, or I shave while having no idea what I'm doing because I can't see my leg. The shower is, in fact, so roomy that while pregnant I moved my legs and held the razor still in order to accomplish my goal. It was less like shaving my legs and more like having modern art below the waist. This shower of ours also appears to have been designed to accelerate mold growth throughout the shower. The grout, glass (?) walls, caulking; all of it needs bleached nearly daily in order to prevent massive fuzzy black growth. I could take a bath, but that involves whole heaps of time, water, and emptying the bathtub of cleaning supplies I have taken to storing in there. I no longer remember why this seemed like a good idea, but I'm sure it did at the time.

Oh, how I lust after those steam/ shower contraptions. Preferably one with smooth flagstone walls in soothing earthy colors, and a slightly rough granite-ish type floor. This shower? It contains places to sit and other places, close by, to place your leg up on, so that you can both sit and shave your legs at the same time. You can also see what you are doing. It has a place where you can stand and get a full back massage with water, and many handy jets placed around so that you can also just shower, and maybe surf while you're in there. The whole area is harbored by a half wall, so there is no shower curtain, no door, no need to worry about all the mold. It just doesn't happen in my dream shower. Take that, crappy reality shower! No funky orange/pink growing crap to wrestle with daily! HA! ha haaa ha.

This shower lives in my dream bathroom. You know, the one in my head. The walls are tiled with large natural stone; the sink is one of those cool bowl sink deals; the toilet is accompanied by a bidet, just in case you're into that kind of thing. There are towel bars that aren't on your head as you sit doing your business. The bath tub is a jacuzzi with jets. There is a large window with a great view that no one can see in. And a chocolate dispenser. And heated floors. And a massage tub and great lighting and it cleans itself and the toilet never clogs. Seriously, you should see the rest of the house.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Bad feelings and making up for it

This morning my kid woke up and stayed awake. It wasn't a horrible tiuldme for her to be up, either. It was closer to 7 than to 6, so I really can't complain. I asked her if she wanted to come lay down with Mommy in her Bed, if she could Lay Down Quietly. Of course she could. For three minutes, and then The Whinening began. It included punching me several times in the face, as well as several kicks to the face, for flavor. After the kick that made me see stars, and me trying everything I could think of to tell her NO, it is NOT OK to kick Mommy, I finally slapped her foot.

I hit my kid. It was on her foot, and it wasn't a hard slap that will cause damage, but I don't like it. I also don't like being kicked and hit all the time, and so I don't know what to do. The verbal repremand doesn't seem to be working, because she's in the play pen right now for kicking me again. Fuck this. I explained this morning that it hurt Mommy when she hits and kicks me, but this doesn't seem to be sinking in right now. Fucking two. The whining, hitting kicking testing screaming slapping telling me no, in all its glory, IT FUCKING SUCKS. I love my kid. But I can't stand this goddamn stage. At the same time, I didn't like the foot hitting. I don't want to do that. She needs to understand that she's hurting other people, but I don't want her to gain that lesson because I hurt her. So I feel like a shit, a frustrated kicked shit, and I know I'm going to spend today making sure she knows how much I love her. But I still don't know what to do about the hitting and kicking, screaming and whining.

So much of parenting is like this: you know you need to do something, but no one can tell you what will work and what won't. So now she has to say she's sorry and tell me she won't hit me or kick me in order to get out of the play pen. I want to be a good mother. I want to love this kid, give her all the best, including the best of myself. That little slap this morning? It was not my best. She's fine, but I may need a day or two to get over the sting of that slap.

Monday, August 20, 2007

I get knocked down

For the past week I have been fighting what seemed at first like an Asian Death Flu, or even a Belgian Death Flu. I'm not sure which would be worse. I woke up last Sunday with the worst sore throat I can remember having, and I rushed off to the Urgent Care to make sure it wasn't strep, Hand Foot and Mouth, or any other massively contagious illness. Because I run the Day Care I need to be more anal than most on the illness front. And because of the Day Care the Urgent Care Doc put me on antibiotics. The first script was for something I told her I was allergic to. The second script was for a new drug called Levaquin. It turns out I'm allergic to that, too. So I had a cold, maybe a sinus infection?, and a severe allergic reaction. So now I'm back on solid food, I can spend more than 1/2 an hour away from the toilet, and I can drink water and even Eat! Food! without feeling like my stomach has glass shards coated in acid splintering around in there. Joy!

Thursday, August 9, 2007

Losing my shit

Today the kids at the day care and I started the day over. Twice. Because I nearly lost my shit a few times. One kid kept breaking my shit and coloring on all sorts of crap, another one kept pretending to be stupid, and yet another kept pissing and shitting herself all over my goddamn house. And I can't even swear when this shit happens, so instead I turn sort of red, I pull out my hair, and I make everyone SIT DOWN NOW. Except the kid who's pissing on my carpet. She goes to the bathroom, where I scrub her down and sanitize everything within 50 feet.

I finally, after having what I think was a small aneurysm, made a deal with each child old enough to get the idea of a "deal." I'm never going to yell again, and if I do, I have to sit in the corner. That's my end. Their end is that they 1) have to tell me BEFORE they crap on my floor that they need to use the potty, 2) are never allowed to pretend to be stupid again, or be difficult because they don't want to answer a question, and 3) will not fight with their sister unless it about not doing something dangerous. Despite the fact that I know these expectations are unrealistic, I made these deals. I will keep my end, because I want this day care to be one where I NEVER yell. I don't like getting to that point, and the kids don't like it, either. I expect more potty accidents from this girl, I expect the other girl to keep being stubborn, and fighting? Fuck that, I'll never stop sisters from sparring. It's good for 'em, anyway. But now I can say "Remember our deal?" It might help them try a little harder, which is all I really want.

Every day I try to think of new ways to make this place a little calmer and a little more peaceful. This is difficult since I'm pretty sure the sisters (there are 3 in one family) not only rev each other up, but are made of something close to speed. I've never seen another human being literally dive as an option for picking something up before. I'm going to start doing games with the 4 year old that require her to be careful-things like walking with an egg on a spoon, etc. Because two days ago she broke my toe right after she pulled my kid down some steps and skinned her legs up a bit. That afternoon she managed to kick her sister IN THE HEAD while sitting down on the couch. The FUCK, kid? Short of a straight jacket, it's going to take some work to calm her the hell down. Her older sister is like a rubber band given life. She would belly-flop onto the sprinkler if I let her. The youngest just does what ever the hell she wants, no matter what you say. I don't know if she doesn't hear well, if she's stupid, or if she's just really stubborn. My guess is the last one. She's also the one who won't tell me if she has to pee, and I'm on a much more intimate level with her bodily functions than I'm comfortable with right now. Sheesh.

But all said and done, I don't want to change what makes these girls fundamentally what they are. I love their personalities, and I love their spunk. Even the one who breaks shit. But I need them to control themselves a little more-the older ones in particular. I don't expect perfection, just don't kick someone else in the damn head while sitting down. This is an easy thing to do. In fact, I sit down SEVERAL times a day without doing bodily damage to anyone within 20 feet of myself. Perhaps I am a miracle worker in this regard, but I really doubt it, since everyone else I know has these same skills. I think it's more of a lack of stability in home life. These girls are wonderful, and their mom is trying hard. But as resilient as kids are, they can't control very much in their world. Thus the acting out. SO! I get to read and take some classes on child development and psychology. The alternative is medicating myself so that I won't care, but I do care. I want so much for these kids, and I want to be a positive influence and a good and stable part of their lives. What to do, what to do....

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Time keeps on slippin'

I woke up this morning at 6:31 am, according to our bedroom alarm clock. Which means it was closer to 6:00 am, but that is just fucking fine with me. My child is finally sleeping again. I expect a few slips back and what-not, but Jesus Pleasus, I can actually think again. Hal-e-fuckin-luyah. And speaking of minor miracles: My day care is about to be full. Full as in I'll have 6 kids daily and one waiting in the wings, at least. I'll also have to ship my kid off to her Grandma's once a week in order to keep a neighbor baby that I've been watching since she was 3 months old. All but 2 of the kids are private pay, which means $. Actually it means $$, since county kids are $. And FULL TIME! $$$! Maybe now J won't look like someone is about to shoot his dog every time he opens the mailbox. I hope-I hate seeing him worry. Once all the kids are lined up I'll be making more than I was at my corporate job. Sweeeet.

Now a unrelated subject matter. I started down the blogging path because my friends talked me into LiveJournal. So we could keep up with what was going on with them. Great! It backfires for me, though, because they write about parties we're not invited to. Ouch. I know that there is nothing in the friend contract that states that I need to be invited to every party, but it still makes me feel ... insecure? Left out? Bad, at the very least, to know that I'm slowly fading out of all social life. Not that I ever had much of one, and not that I didn't expect some of this with a kid. But it still smarts a bit. Perhaps in the future I will have a tiny social life again, or at least be invited to events so I can turn down the invitation. Now I'm going to go role-play not being hurt next time I talk to my friend.

Thursday, August 2, 2007

Bitching, whining and kvetching

I'm tired, I'm in a foul mood, and I am quickly burying these facts under a facade of happy Cap'n Kangaroo-like cheer. You know, for the kids! One of the biggest challenges right now is not being a total cunt to the kids I take care of, because I feel like a bitch on wheels. I also feel like duct taping my child into her crib with a sedative drip. For fuck's sake, shut up and sleep past 3 am. Christ.

Well! Now that the bitch, whine and kvetch fest is over, how are you? Are you well? That's nice dear. Despite everything I write here, I do have some good news-the flowers in my garden are blooming. The tomatoes are starting to turn red, the brussels sprouts are growing, the jalepenos are ripening and the broccoli is flowering. We have lady bugs, we have bees and we have butterflies. I love my job, I love my man, I love my kid and the world is a pretty place right now round these parts. So the fact that I feel like the night time is a nightmare is sure to pass. (RIGHT?) I'm slowly cleaning our master bath. I think it will take me two more nights at this pace, which is fine. As long as it gets fucking done. I found a seriously vomit-inducing black moldy funk on J's facet when I cleaned it-I was afraid. How long has he been brushing his teeth with and drinking moldy water? Gross doesn't seem to cover this...it was all I could do not to call poison control last night. Envision the conversation, won't you? Is there any way I would have sounded like a rational, intelligent human? I couldn't get a yes to that one out of myself, so I bleach the ever-loving fuck out of the sink area. This coming from some one who tries to use baking soda and vinegar to clean everything.

Today I plan to clean out a few old candle containers (the glass the candles came in needs to be rescued and used for something else.) and using these new treasures in the bathroom. I'm thinking about a lucky bamboo "garden" on the shelf by our shower. I'm going to get rid of a lot of crap I don't use anymore tonight, so that I'll have room for this new, useful idea of mine. Ahhh, the smell of fresh oxygen. Ahhh, the feeling of getting rid of useless shit. Ahhhhhh! A Spider!

One of the reasons I'm on such a cleaning/organizing/redecorating kick right now is the spiders. We have an official ass-load of the bastards around here right now. I keep finding them everywhere. Now, being the hippie I am, I like what spiders do. I try not to kill them, and I try to leave them alone or arrange transport to a safe place whenever possible. But when they decide to throw a convention in my house? It's time to take off the gloves and turn on the vacuum. Not that our house id filthy, there are just some areas that go undisturbed for long periods of time. Which, also apparently, is the equivalent of putting out a welcome mat and a few gallons of helpless, fat bugs, to spiders anyway.

The girls are done with breakfast, so despite the fact I have acres more to say, I'm going to leave you now. But! I'll leave you with this thought...74% of all statistics are made up on the spot. Have a lovely day!