Christmas with a two year old.

Is anyone else suffering from a “holiday hangover”–and not due to alcoholic beverages (for once, I know, right!?) It’s the day after Christmas and I’m so tired I just can’t even today. I’m protesting the dishes in the sink by sitting on the couch, luke warm coffee in hand, obligatory flannel robe tied tight, wondering why my living room still looks like Santa and his elves had a little too much fun in the workshop (if you know what I mean). More importantly, who the hell is going to clean this all up? Oh, yeah…never mind. Sigh.

I’ll get to that later…maybe.

As I sit here, dodging my “chores”, I can’t help but reflect on the last couple of days; I call it…Christmas with a two year old. Sure, the food is yummy, the presents are all wrapped nicely, the coffee is hot, the Rumchata is cold and damn delicious! You bust your butt running around from store to store, spending money you don’t have, arguing with people you don’t know, for a sale you really want–all to make Christmas morning perfect as can be–and you know what? Our Christmas morning turned out absolutely perfect here in the Repiscak abode: well, if “perfect Christmas morning” is synonymous with “the kids can give two shits about their presents and would rather throw the new toys across the room to watch reruns of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse while demanding a candy cane at 7am”…well then, it was perfect! I totally expected this indifferent attitude from our 6month old. I mean, I can’t blame someone with no teeth, gallons of drool, and rug burned knees to be remotely interested in anything other than eating the wrapping paper. But my 2.5 year old? I guess the picture in my head of her skipping around with her new stuffed animal friends, sitting quietly playing Minnie Mouse Shopping Mall for more than 2 minutes was a huge misconception.

Here’s six things I learned from Christmas with my two year old:

1. Whatever new thing you carefully label as, “this is the one, she is gonna LOVE this!”–is going to be the one she cares the least about. Ella absolutely loves Toy Story and Monsters Inc., everyday it’s, ‘wanna watch Buzz Jessie’ and she squealed in delight every time she would see them at the store. Being the great parents we are, we got her the Jessie, Bullseye, Sully, and Mike Wazowski stuffed animals. Noel and I were beyond excited for her to see them, too bad she wasn’t. After the initial inspection and “Ooooh” they were thrown to God knows where, and I haven’t seen ’em since.
2. The night before Santa’s big delivery will never go as you planned. Ella decided two days before Christmas that she hates everything about her room; her crib, her toddler bed, the pictures on the wall, the sound machine, the wall color, etc. Due to this recent protest, she has set up shop on the living room floor. Well…how is Santa supposed to sneak in and deliver presents around the tree? He simply can’t because my child is the type to wake up at the sound of a fart at the other end of the house, and has made midnight her new bedtime {‘it’s just a phase, it’s just a phase’} Since I’m trying to pick my battles lately, we all woke up on Christmas with an empty tree. Don’t worry we had presents after I dragged them all out of the bedroom in plastic bags and forced her to actually open them. I was thinking up an excuse, worried she would wonder why the gifts weren’t under the tree…good thing she didn’t really give two shits about anything that day in general, no excuse needed. Thumbs up!
3. Any pictures you try and take will be met with record shattering tantrums and bribery. All you want to do is capture these precious moments. This includes, but is not limited to; not smiling for any pictures, throwing a gargantuan fit when forced to take just one picture, to then only smile half heartedly when a candy cane is used as a bribe for taking that picture. I mean honestly, the one shot I have of Ella and her brother in matching Christmas Mickey pj’s (another let down) was only taken thanks to a little bit of ‘mom tone’ and the desperate promise of a candy cane on the other end. All day at the request of her to smile, her response was a cheerful, ‘NO! I don’t wanna cheese’, with an extra serving of ‘side eye’.

   

   Right after I told her she would get candy if she smiled.

    

4. Any and all holiday gatherings you attend, said two year old will seize the opportunity to be on their ‘best’ worst behavior. House hoppin’ was what we did on Christmas Eve; three different houses in six short, very long hours. This is the root of my exhaustion. Practically living out of a diaper bag for two kids for six hours is a true test of patience and sanity [spoiler alert: I failed that test]. Ella was already losing steam at the second house, so I just knew what she had in store for us at the last, and like the old saying goes, ‘mother knows best’: she didn’t fail to deliver. In summary, our final stop ended with a wrestling match in the bathroom trying to get Ella’s pajamas on. Big Mama versus Tiny Tornado, it was epic! For just 28 pounds, she really gave me a run for my money. Sweating, silently cursing the whole holiday, screaming, and kicking; that was all easy in comparison to having to then muster up my smile to face everyone upon my exit, pretending I didn’t just wrestle an alligator in their bathroom.
5. If your marriage can survive the assembling of toys on this day, you’re going to make it. Am I the only one who thinks toys nowadays are just impossibly hard to breech? Does Barbie really need to be held in place using 10 zip ties, 15 rubber bands, a whole roll of tape, and an impenetrable plastic box ? No. No she does not. Come on, Mattel, quit playin’! Nobody wins when it takes 15 minutes to free this damn doll from a vice grip when a toddler is breathing down your neck. Don’t even get me started on trying to open and assemble anything with your husband in the same room. It goes something like: “retcha fretcha <expletive>… where’s the scissors!?…I give up!..this is impossible…Oh, wait I think I got it…<expletive>–Finally!” Yep, piece of cake [eye roll]. Then we all smiled and ate bacon. We love bacon.

   

   Me, patiently waiting for the battle between husband and toy to commence.

6. Despite numbers one through five, at the end of the night, everything is okay. Sure, the day wasn’t perfect and most things didn’t go as you truly expected and that’s okay. It’s okay because she is only two and a half, and if we’re being honest, I’m sure I was the same way…I mean she definitely is her mother’s daughter. It’s okay because I know we as parents did everything we could to give her more than she needed and everything she didn’t. At the end of the night, even though it was now midnight and Ella insisted on sleeping in the living room again, her good night hug and tiny voice saying, “Merry Christmas, Mama” made everything okay. It’s now another memory.

Happy New Year, folks!

 

An Open Letter to My Mom.

I am your first born daughter; child number 3 out of 4. You changed my diapers, nursed me, rocked me in the wee hours of the night. Kissed my cuts and scrapes, and let me sleep in the middle whenever I was sick. You are my mom.

You were there putting in just as much work as I was with all my extra-curricular school activities. Tirelessly and effortlessly volunteering: working the concession stands every weekend, escorting me and my 25 screaming classmates on field trips (now that’s love!), and chauffeuring me from here to there without ever a question. I felt how much you loved me, and saw how much you sacrificed for me. You were my safe place to land. You are my mom.

You were there for my first day as a college student. Your car packed with all the necessary gidgets and gadgets to properly launch me into the great, big, unknown world; beginning the next chapter of my life. You helped me unpack and organize my new dorm room, doing your best to hold back the tears–as was I. You were all I knew for those first 17 years of life. Everything seemed less scary knowing you were always only 30 minutes away. I felt comfort. You are my mom.

–And then everything changed.

I was angry, resentful, hurt, and bitter. At first I didn’t understand what this all meant; now it was your car all packed up. The look of guilt and tears on your face -‘what was going on?’– I don’t remember the exact words you said, but my heart sank. In the midst of my parents finalizing their divorce, my mom was moving away. Every word you may have spoken shortly after that is a blur. I remember crying, chasing behind your car as you drove away. My best friend was leaving me. No more mother/daughter all day shopping trips. No more calling you to meet me for lunch. No more physical hugs and kisses. No more having you next to me, even if we were just sitting on the couch, in the car, or in the next room.  Everything changed. I changed.

That was back almost 8 years ago; we have come a very long way and have made momentous strides since then. I’ll never know what your mindset was back in 2007, I didn’t care to know. The inner pain and confusion you must have been feeling was obviously too much for you to deal with here, and you felt this was the best choice. Looking back now, so many years later, I realize there are far worse things that we could have dealt with. But, I didn’t think about that back then. To me, in that moment, you driving away was the worst possible thing that could and would ever happen. I honestly never thought I would be able to forgive you for leaving the way you did; it took a few years. Lord knows I’ve exhausted the question, ‘Why did you ever move away!?’ I’ve accepted that I’ll never truly have an answer, perhaps, because you yourself don’t have the right one to give. But that’s ok… it’s finally ok. 

“Mothers and daughters are closest, when daughters become mothers” –author unknown.

I found this quote during my angry and bitter stages. It didn’t mean much back then, especially because I wasn’t yet a mother at the time, but since having children of my own–it has taken on a deeper meaning. Despite all the bad days, the tears and anger, the ugly words spewed (always from me). All the years of fighting and hurt that plagued our relationship, our love prevailed. You are my mom. 

The moment I became a mother myself, my guard came crashing down, allowing understanding and acceptance to come rushing through. Remembering all that you have done for me throughout my whole life before this, all the sacrifices you made for the 4 of us kids. That was enough to bring me to tears; helping to wash away all the anger and bitterness I carried for so long. Do I wish you lived closer to me? Of course. Will I ever forget that turbulent time? Never. I don’t want to forget. It allowed us to grow; individually and together. It became a great lesson in forgiveness. Anger and bitterness grabs a hold of you, and if you’re not careful, can take over your life–It almost took over mine. Forgiveness will always see you through.

Here we are today. Our relationship filled with understanding, trust, laughter, and advice; it is better now more than ever before. We call each other to gab about nonsense things; things that only we may find interesting. Have a recipe question? I call you. If I need to vent, I can cry on your ‘shoulder’ without judgment. Whenever I’m having a ‘bad parenting day’, I ask you about when we were all little–‘how did you get through it?’–you tell me a story. The conversation always starts with us laughing, and ends with me feeling better. We all only get one mother, and I’m thankful that I got you– more importantly, that I still have you. 935 miles separates us these days, but one beautiful fact remains…you are my mom.

I love you.

Keepin’ it real

So there I was, endlessly rocking my 2 month old son, praying to God that he would finally stop fighting his long overdue nap, and fall asleep for more than 20 minutes. My 2 year old daughter is at the table, flinging her now cold oatmeal on to the floor and walls. I couldn’t even yell at this point. Both kids have been up since 5:45am today, and YES, that is extremely early for us over here, especially when we have what seems like 20 more hours of sunlight to conquer. In that moment of non-sleeping and oatmeal flinging, all I could do was cry. I cried because it was only noon and I was already done with this day. In between the tears, I could see the sun shining outside and all I could do was cry more because while a part of me wants to bring the kids outside and enjoy the weather, the other (and more loud) part of me says “nahhh girl, you crazy!” Maybe I’m just too exhausted to think about getting them dressed and actually going out there. Or, it could be that we don’t have a fenced in yard. Going outside at my house is automatic grounds for my 2 yo to take off like a wild woman down the street while I run after her yelling like a crazy person. Quite frankly, chasing someone down the street without a bra on is NEVER fun for me or the neighbors; been there, done that. So, after I go through the list of all the things convincing me to stay inside, I snap back out of my anxiety riddled thought bubble and enthusiastically decide, “let’s all go outside and get some fresh air!” Then, as if they planned it, my son has decided to fall asleep on my arm (PHEW!) and now that the walls and floors are painted a nice shade of apples n’ cinnamon, my daughter has left the table to play with her blocks. Maybe next go around, eh? I may have dodged a bullet there, or just the opportunity to be the neighborhood comedy show for today. Either way, we stay inside for now.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again, being a mom in general is such an emotional rollercoaster that never stops. And just speaking from my present position and personal experience, everyday truly starts to feel like groundhog day. Before kids, I always worked full-time whether it was as a server, in an office or as a 911 operator (miss you guys)!  Now, my full-time job is in the home setting, and honestly, I’m still trying to navigate all of this and adapt the best way I know how. Everyday is not hearts, butterflies, and extreme parental bliss. I’ve read my fair share of online blogs from moms who keep it real, get down to the nitty gritty of things & talk about the ‘taboo’ topics of motherhood. If I’m having an off day here in the trenches, those really help bring a sense of relief and remind me that it’s okay, I’m not the only one. I love knowing that it’s okay to throw some Cheerios in a bowl and turn on a movie to get a moment to yourself. I love knowing that not everyday is going to be a good day, but that there is almost always something good in that day (sometimes you have to sift through some sh*t to find a diamond….that’s a common saying right? Or did I just make that up)?

I’ve always been real about the ups and downs of parenthood-at least to a few family and friends-which is why I started typing today.  My husband works 2 jobs to support our family, it seems he’s gone more now than he is home. My son hates the car at the moment. It’s as if the carseat somehow morphs into a tiny torture chamber that causes relentless screaming and hysteria 12.5 seconds in to him sitting down. Being home all day, everyday, and being an anxious mom (yep, that’s me), things tend to get pretty lonely and overwhelming. Some (or most) days my sanity is questionable. You know what makes it worse? Feeling like you’re not able to talk about anything related to being a parent unless it is all the perfect and good stuff. Having to smile & nod when you want to just scream because “mom’s aren’t supposed to feel this way.” Nobody is perfect. Who is that helping when you only talk about the mushy gushy stuff? All that does is make that other person feel inferior as a mother, and like there is something wrong with her because she doesn’t sit on cloud 9 everyday. Oh, and don’t bother going to the library to search for “The Parenting Manual,” there isn’t one (damn, that was disappointing to find out.) We’re all thrown into this blindly, tripping our way through toys and diapers day in and day out. This is why I am a huge believer in being real; if not for any other reason than to give others who may feel the same way a sense of comfort and community. Keeping it real and being able to laugh about the ups and downs of the daily grind keeps your sanity in check. There are certainly many ways to catch a break from wiping butts and watching ‘Mickey Mouse’ on repeat. My outlet is to write (or type), whatever yours is, be sure to make time for it whenever you can. I’ve always loved to write and in the midst of being swept up in the day to day life of utter chaos, this has helped bring me back to the foreground with myself. And remember, every parents’ personal experience & lessons along the way are what helps write this mythological parent manual, but without talking about it ALL, yes even the not so glamorous stuff, there will be blank pages.

For all the moms out there, I toast this Corona to you! Yes, it is only 2:13pm on a Tuesday. Just keepin’ it real 🙂

{“You’re gonna miss this, you’re gonna want this back, you’re gonna wish these days hadn’t gone by so fast”}