If most people knew about this blog then maybe my family and I wouldn’t be such a mystery to figure out in this crazy town I live in. I assume every town has the same type of people, but apparently when you enter the school system as a parent it is a whole different ball game then when you were a kid.
I call it a small, big town that I live in. It seems like everyone is at the third degree of separation level and even closer sometimes, which may be true for most towns if you live long enough in one place. Considering I moved several times during my childhood, I never developed this closeness within a community or maybe I was just too young to be that aware of others.
Interesting enough I have been observing how parents interact over the last year. I have discovered that there are several different types of moms. The mom that I will be referring to is the (I had a little help from a friend with the name) crazy PTO mom. This mom will ask you what you had for breakfast last week Monday. No question is off limits.
I have no problems answering questions or even having my friends answering questions for me. Where the problem lies is not really with all the conversation going on first hand it’s the after hand. With so many questions, I start to wonder where all this information will be going. You got it, out to all the other crazy PTO moms. Because if she is telling you about other families (mostly innocent information about which kid does which activity), you know your family is going to be brought up in a future conversation with someone else.
People are always going to talk otherwise there wouldn’t be so many celebrity gossip magazines. The jury is still out on how I feel about all this. Not that I have any skeletons in my closet or really care what people think about me, but it almost seems creepy when people you don’t know, know more about you than you have told them.
Or maybe I am just paranoid and totally off on all this. It might be a long haul for me since I still have two more kids to integrate into the school system. I am sure you will all be dying to know which path I take in the future. I will keep you posted.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
Triathlon Times
Apparently, writing things down doesn't actually hold me accountable to myself. Okay so the last ten pounds didn’t come off before my triathlon, but I still dropped eleven minutes off my overall time from last year. Consequently, this gives me a new goal for next year to drop the same excruciating ten pounds. Of course procrastination runs in the family, which will probably lead to trying to drop ten pounds again two months before the race. What a vicious cycle I live in.
Anyway my official time is listed below:
Distance Short
Clock Time 01:23:57
Overall Place 165 / 2544
Division Place 18 / 258
Swim 00:13:10
Swimrank 105
Trans1 00:04:16
Bike 00:39:35
Bikerank 470
Mph 18.1
Trans2 00:01:31
Runrank 220
Run 00:25:24
Pace 00:08:11
Even though, I did better on my time I totally slacked in the swimming. I did better last year in the swim, but my bike and run improved. Maybe next year I will actually train for the swim part (nah, not training always makes it more interesting). I really need to carve out some time (Where did that 27 hour/day pill go? I know it was in my pocket somewhere).
James brought the girls so they could cheer on their mommy for a whole three seconds, but at least they got to see what the race was about. My parents came too, but they missed me on all three transitions. Oh well, there is always next year.
PS. These times are based on 1/2 mile swim, 12 mile bike and 3.1 mile run just in case you were wondering.
Anyway my official time is listed below:
Distance Short
Clock Time 01:23:57
Overall Place 165 / 2544
Division Place 18 / 258
Swim 00:13:10
Swimrank 105
Trans1 00:04:16
Bike 00:39:35
Bikerank 470
Mph 18.1
Trans2 00:01:31
Runrank 220
Run 00:25:24
Pace 00:08:11
Even though, I did better on my time I totally slacked in the swimming. I did better last year in the swim, but my bike and run improved. Maybe next year I will actually train for the swim part (nah, not training always makes it more interesting). I really need to carve out some time (Where did that 27 hour/day pill go? I know it was in my pocket somewhere).
James brought the girls so they could cheer on their mommy for a whole three seconds, but at least they got to see what the race was about. My parents came too, but they missed me on all three transitions. Oh well, there is always next year.
PS. These times are based on 1/2 mile swim, 12 mile bike and 3.1 mile run just in case you were wondering.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Internal Pressure
Three must be the magical age to eliminate internal pressure.
Now according to www.yourdictionary.com
Internal means of or having to do with the inside, and
Pressure means a compelling influence, constraining force, demands requiring immediate attention; urgency
Essentially, I coined the phrase internal pressure for when you are away from your children and you feel this urgency to get back to them. Whether you are making a Target or grocery store run, you try to complete the task as quickly as possible just to get back to them (and it always pisses you off when you forget something you really needed because you were rushing). Usually you try to do these tasks when you need a break, but then you find yourself feeling guilty for not spending every waking moment with them when you are not at work.
I would find myself rushing home when I knew my husband had everything under control. Even when I was two minutes late for picking the kids up, I would internally beat myself up. This internal force sucks you into thinking your children need every second of your time especially when they are babies (obviously this is something us moms do to ourselves).
Since my youngest has turned three, I am actually enjoying my twenty minute ride home now, listening to music and not worrying so much (it is actually 25 minutes now because of Racine Ave being shut down, dam construction). I don’t rush in the grocery store or at Target anymore, although I end up taking one of the kids with me, usually the one who has been the best behaved for the day, the reward for good behavior (it always amazes me on how the behavior of one child is so much different than the behavior of three children together).
It probably has to do with my kids getting older and not needing me as much, but I do feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Because is that two minutes ever really going to matter in the grand scheme of things? It has only taken me six years to figure this out.
Everyone can tell you how hard it is going to raise children, but you never really grasp the level of difficulty until you experience it for yourself.
Now according to www.yourdictionary.com
Internal means of or having to do with the inside, and
Pressure means a compelling influence, constraining force, demands requiring immediate attention; urgency
Essentially, I coined the phrase internal pressure for when you are away from your children and you feel this urgency to get back to them. Whether you are making a Target or grocery store run, you try to complete the task as quickly as possible just to get back to them (and it always pisses you off when you forget something you really needed because you were rushing). Usually you try to do these tasks when you need a break, but then you find yourself feeling guilty for not spending every waking moment with them when you are not at work.
I would find myself rushing home when I knew my husband had everything under control. Even when I was two minutes late for picking the kids up, I would internally beat myself up. This internal force sucks you into thinking your children need every second of your time especially when they are babies (obviously this is something us moms do to ourselves).
Since my youngest has turned three, I am actually enjoying my twenty minute ride home now, listening to music and not worrying so much (it is actually 25 minutes now because of Racine Ave being shut down, dam construction). I don’t rush in the grocery store or at Target anymore, although I end up taking one of the kids with me, usually the one who has been the best behaved for the day, the reward for good behavior (it always amazes me on how the behavior of one child is so much different than the behavior of three children together).
It probably has to do with my kids getting older and not needing me as much, but I do feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Because is that two minutes ever really going to matter in the grand scheme of things? It has only taken me six years to figure this out.
Everyone can tell you how hard it is going to raise children, but you never really grasp the level of difficulty until you experience it for yourself.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Role Reversal
I have always been a 50/50 kind of gal, Equality for the masses, Women’s Rights. Hell I even brokered a deal with my husband (before he was my husband) if we were going to have children I wasn’t going to be a married woman raising children on my own. I made it very clear this would be a deal breaker for me so I took my snide self to the alter and got married.
Two years later, we had our first beautiful baby girl. Yeah, all that equality shit was thrown out the window, which I gladly accepted because I was dealing with a helpless little precious human being that was mine and needed me. During the baby years, the equality fell into more like 70/30 and currently pulled into 60/40 (I still do all the mornings by myself).
As the years went by, we fell into a pattern, certain chores fell under me because I was the woman and certain chores fell under him because he was the man. You know laundry was mine and the lawn/snow was his (very Little House on the Prairie-like, don’t ya think).
Anyway recently there has been some complaining about physically working all day and then having to come home to cut the lawn, of course, I keep my big mouth shut and don’t list all the things I have to do physically and mentally during the day for the children, work and the household (you can choose to believe that or not depending on how well you know me).
A few weeks ago, after several days of thought, I started mowing the lawn, which takes approximately about an hour to an hour and half depending on how much stuff I have to move around (see I do have some compassion). Yesterday would be the third straight week in a row I have mowed the lawn. After being bit several times by more mosquitoes and feeling pretty sweating and gross, I was ready to take a shower. I head into the house. To my surprise, the whole house was cleaned miraculously. James had cleaned the whole kitchen, vacuumed and got the girls to even pick up their bedrooms.
So I was thinking I really like this role reversal, it’s kind of nice being outside by myself while someone else takes care of the kids and cleans the house even if I am physically pushing the lawn mower. I have to take what I can get because it will never be equal. Why? Because I am the mom. Now I just have to figure out how to fix cars so I don't have to clean bathrooms anymore.
Two years later, we had our first beautiful baby girl. Yeah, all that equality shit was thrown out the window, which I gladly accepted because I was dealing with a helpless little precious human being that was mine and needed me. During the baby years, the equality fell into more like 70/30 and currently pulled into 60/40 (I still do all the mornings by myself).
As the years went by, we fell into a pattern, certain chores fell under me because I was the woman and certain chores fell under him because he was the man. You know laundry was mine and the lawn/snow was his (very Little House on the Prairie-like, don’t ya think).
Anyway recently there has been some complaining about physically working all day and then having to come home to cut the lawn, of course, I keep my big mouth shut and don’t list all the things I have to do physically and mentally during the day for the children, work and the household (you can choose to believe that or not depending on how well you know me).
A few weeks ago, after several days of thought, I started mowing the lawn, which takes approximately about an hour to an hour and half depending on how much stuff I have to move around (see I do have some compassion). Yesterday would be the third straight week in a row I have mowed the lawn. After being bit several times by more mosquitoes and feeling pretty sweating and gross, I was ready to take a shower. I head into the house. To my surprise, the whole house was cleaned miraculously. James had cleaned the whole kitchen, vacuumed and got the girls to even pick up their bedrooms.
So I was thinking I really like this role reversal, it’s kind of nice being outside by myself while someone else takes care of the kids and cleans the house even if I am physically pushing the lawn mower. I have to take what I can get because it will never be equal. Why? Because I am the mom. Now I just have to figure out how to fix cars so I don't have to clean bathrooms anymore.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Mosquitoes vs. Humans
We had a lovely 4th of July weekend, but (there is always a but) the mosquitoes were absolutely horrible. So this makes for an interesting decision because I really hate bug spray. I hate spraying chemicals on my children and myself along with smelling like stomach acid (okay so maybe that was uncalled for but it’s true).
Since the weather was the coolest it has ever been since I moved here (that is for the 4th), I made the girls dress in long pants and sweat shirts to watch the fireworks, hoping I wouldn’t have to use the bug spray.
No such luck. Of course, Child #1 wants to wear Capri pants and not long pants, but she does put on a long sleeve dress. I did spray her ankles when the mosquitoes started to bother her. The other two were fine until the mosquitoes got so bad they attacked your face. Thankfully someone had the wipes with bug repellent, but Child #3 refused to allow me to put it on her face.
Once I felt everyone was covered, I sat down. Big mistake. When I sat down, a small part of my skin was exposed between my tennis shoes and my jeans, I should have worn socks. I forgot to mention that mosquitoes are extremely attracted to me, as my dad refers to it as sweet blood. Then my hands started to itch. I had gotten three mosquito bites in a matter of minutes on my hands. Apparently mosquitoes can get you through your jeans too, the upper part of my thigh, the point where the chair and your covered skin meet, I received several attacks.
By the time the fireworks were over, I was itching everywhere. This wasn’t even the worst of it. When we woke up the next morning, Child#3 had about 15 mosquito bites all over her face. Next time I will have to wrestle her to the ground and wipe the bug repellent on her face. I didn’t think it would be that bad. Oh well, another check for the bad mother side.
Since the weather was the coolest it has ever been since I moved here (that is for the 4th), I made the girls dress in long pants and sweat shirts to watch the fireworks, hoping I wouldn’t have to use the bug spray.
No such luck. Of course, Child #1 wants to wear Capri pants and not long pants, but she does put on a long sleeve dress. I did spray her ankles when the mosquitoes started to bother her. The other two were fine until the mosquitoes got so bad they attacked your face. Thankfully someone had the wipes with bug repellent, but Child #3 refused to allow me to put it on her face.
Once I felt everyone was covered, I sat down. Big mistake. When I sat down, a small part of my skin was exposed between my tennis shoes and my jeans, I should have worn socks. I forgot to mention that mosquitoes are extremely attracted to me, as my dad refers to it as sweet blood. Then my hands started to itch. I had gotten three mosquito bites in a matter of minutes on my hands. Apparently mosquitoes can get you through your jeans too, the upper part of my thigh, the point where the chair and your covered skin meet, I received several attacks.
By the time the fireworks were over, I was itching everywhere. This wasn’t even the worst of it. When we woke up the next morning, Child#3 had about 15 mosquito bites all over her face. Next time I will have to wrestle her to the ground and wipe the bug repellent on her face. I didn’t think it would be that bad. Oh well, another check for the bad mother side.
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