We Are Family

What is it about family that seems to defy the time/space continuum? How can the family bond be so strong that even cousins who live thousands of miles away from each other be so close? Is it instinctive? Is it because their parents talk about the years they spent together growing up? Can our kids sense our excitement about getting together with (some parts of) our family?

My mom and her cousin were best friends growing up even after her cousin’s family moved to another state. The next generation grew up together and my relationship with my second cousin is what I imagine sisterhood to be like. But she now lives in Boston and her sister lives in Texas and although my brother lives about 20 minutes away, I rarely see him.

The stars and planets aligned last week though when we were all in the same town at the same time and so were our kids. Monster has only met his cousin, Superman, a handful of times. Plus, he’s 2 so he has no real understanding of what it means to be cousins, yet he couldn’t wait to see him. He even pretended to talk to him on his toy cellphone.

Even the cousins who had never met before seemed to have a comfort level that spanned generations. It seemed like we had been getting together like this every day since the dawn of time.

Despite the differences in age, hometown, upbringing – we’re the same. We’re family.

Broken Dreams, Broken Flower

Yesterday a power struggle between me and my toddler resulted in this

And I'm not sure what else to say about it except that I'm completely heart broken.

Me + Potty Training = FAIL

Be prepared people. Probably every post from here on out will involve potty training and how I’m not qualified to teach a 2-year-old how to use a toilet.

This morning Monster was fussing around a bit whilst I was in the shower. I thought he was just upset that I was not attending to his every need. He kept crying, “Mama! Poop!”

It took me a minute to figure out that’s what he was saying anyway, mostly because I was kind of ignoring him. His crying seemed half-hearted so I knew nothing was seriously wrong. Don’t judge me. I got downstairs and, sure enough, he had, in fact, pooped. He also removed his diaper that was filled with the poop, and scooted it away from him. Then he just continued lying on the floor, watching Special Agent Oso.

It was a little messy but not as bad as I anticipated. I was so proud of him for knowing he was poopy and not wanting to stay that way. Usually when we ask him if he pooped, he’ll deny even though, clearly, he had. I told him I was proud of him and he beamed.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m reading about potty training but most of what I’m reading is how to coax your child to do it. My kid is leaps and bounds ahead of me. I’m unprepared. I’m lost. I'm taking suggestions.

Super Mom

It’s rare when I feel like I’m rocking this single mom sh*t but yesterday I had a moment when I felt confident of my skills to work, parent and not lose my freakin’ mind. And it was because of such a little thing that maybe most people wouldn’t think twice about. I put a delicious dinner on the table in a reasonable amount of time using little to no brain power!

I will forever divide my life into two parts: before I found this wonderful summer freezer meals blog post and after I found this wonderful summer freezer meals blog post. I even e-mailed Natalie (the mastermind behind it) to let her know this and now I’m pretty sure she’s concerned about my mental health and has perhaps gone into hiding.

Anyway, last week I grilled and shredded and froze the chicken. I pulled one of my little packets out of the freezer with zero clue about what I was going to do with it. Around 5 pm I realized I still had no plan for it so, while I was stuck in stupid traffic yesterday, I used the Epicurious app on my phone to look up BBQ sauce recipes. I found a simple one and then tweaked the hell out of it. Here’s a tip y'all: if you’re like me and have quarter-filled jars of spaghetti sauce left over, use it in a BBQ sauce! It’s already spiced up so that saves a step. Then I just added the shredded chicken to the sauce and let them get to know each other while I threw some Pillsbury biscuits in the oven.

I found these at the grocery store I never go to due to it smelling like raw meat and it not offering organic milk (wtf??). Of course, I didn’t know there was no organic milk there until the other day when I really needed some milk for Monster and that was the closest place. I did find these biscuits though and they don’t have them at my normal grocery spot.

Then I served the BBQ chicken with a biscuit for dinner. Monster and I suppered on the lanai (said in snobby rich person voice) and had a great evening (until it was time to take a bath, at which time things went to hell quite quickly. But, that's another story).

But for that one moment, that glorious fleeting moment, I was Super Mom.

Private Parts

Monster is becoming fascinated with body parts and bodily functions. A couple of weeks ago we were playing Name That Body Part and when I pointed at his little bottom, he exclaimed, "Poop!" Not quite right but I’m impressed that he’s made that connection. I did let him know that it’s called a ‘bum.’ But this leads me to wonder, "what are we going to call private parts?"

I’m very much like an adolescent boy. I giggle whenever anyone says balls or fish tacos. I’m giggling right now just typing those words. I wish it ended there but there’s something about small children using the proper names for private parts that sends me to fits.

Lately Monster has been pointing at my privates and saying, “Poop,” and it’s making me self conscious and quite frankly it hurts my feelings. But I don’t have a word in mind to transition him to.

Now that potty training has started, parts are going to have to be named and I’m taking suggestions.

What I Realized On The Way To Work This Morning

I had one of those moments in the car this morning. A moment when my heart got lighter and a smile formed without me having to put in any effort at all. I realized I am happy.

I am happy despite being a single mom – or maybe because of that. I’m happy even though I have no disposable income. Seriously, every penny must be accounted for. I’m working a job that I find uninteresting and quite frankly, I have zero idea about what my company does. But, whatevs.

On my drive this morning, I looked in my rear view mirror and saw the love of my life, eyes bright, mouth full of fresh blueberries, no pants on, and a feeling came over me. It wasn’t a jolt either, it was a gentle realization that I love my life. Even though I realized that I never changed out of my flip flops before leaving for work, even though I picked up a piece of poop with my bare hands thinking it was a dropped blueberry, even though I had to scrub my toilet this morning because someone – not me – peed in there the evening before and never flushed it (it really wasn’t me, it was a ‘guest’ who thinks that’s acceptable behavior and who also thinks it’s acceptable to park in my parking spot – the one closest to my house – and then give me a hard time about it when I ask him to stop doing that).

I’m happy despite being 15 pounds overweight and so out of shape that I thought I was going to throw up on the treadmill last evening, despite fighting with Monster about going to sleep for more than an hour and then not having any alcohol in the house to chug after he finally did fall asleep.

I'm happy knowing that life can certainly turn out to be a wonderful thing in spite of my best efforts to f*&@ it up.

Potty Training Parent Fail

Monster is entering an important, albeit frightening, time (for me at least). It’s potty training time! And I’ll admit, I have no f*$@ing clue what I’m doing. I have not prepared for this in the least. In fact, I was quite surprised when, at Monster’s two-year checkup, the nurse practitioner told me that at the next checkup he’d be checking on our progress in this particular area.

I’ve been keeping an eye out for the signs that it was time to start trying. It seems Monster never has a dry diaper so obviously he’s not interested in holding it. He is capable of taking his diaper off but not putting it back on or even wanting it back on. According to the babysitter, he likes to take off his clothes but mostly shirts, not pants. Basically, all signs point to ‘he’s not ready.’

Then this weekend happened. Monster looked at me and announced, ‘Pee pee,’ and walked into the bathroom. I asked him if he wanted his diaper off and he said yes. I asked him if he wanted to pee pee in the toilet and he said yes. So I put him up there and he got really freaked out even though I was holding him. Back in his diaper he went. I could kick myself! If I had been at least a little prepared I could’ve introduced him to the wonders of not peeing in his pants.

*sigh*

On tonight’s to do list: get a training potty and a clue.