so what’s left? July 3, 2008

I want to post but I don’t want to talk about anything.

I don’t want to talk about how relieved I am that my parents may move their plane reservation to Saturday so that they will be here before Train leaves for his first week of classes in Virginia Beach. I don’t want to talk about how guilty I feel that I think it may cost them $300. I don’t want to talk about how I begged them to come three days early when I was pregnant with Sherman and we ended up waiting two more weeks for him to show up. I don’t want to talk about how my parents are dealing with several issues with their rental properties that we were all hoping could be wrapped up before they came but probably will not be, and since they are staying until the end of August, I worry that this will cause them added stress and cost.

I don’t want to talk about how when my parents get here, Sherman will probably prefer my dad for the first few days until he gets used to Train being gone and Grammy and Grandpap visiting, because he is much more into his uncles and Train’s male friends than any adult females lately, and how worried I am that this will hurt my mother’s feelings.

I don’t want to talk about how, after three weeks of being home with Daddy all day, Sherman won’t even talk to me for the first hour when I get home from work, and forget about allowing me to distract him while Train tries to make dinner. I don’t want to talk about how I can’t stand to see him try to get his way by screaming and pushing. I don’t want to talk about how then two hours later he will snuggle up to me on the couch while we watch Sesame Street after bath time and I forget all about the monster that made me want to call Super Nanny.

I don’t want to talk about how Sherman has been fighting naptime (for Daddy during the day) and bedtime for the past few days, including one hellacious two hour fight Friday night after our time at L&D. I REALLY don’t want to talk about how nervous I am that these episodes will continue after my parents get here, and my preferred method of cry-it-out/repeatedly put him back in bed will cause tension and unnecessary drama between my mother and I, at least for the first few days until she comes to her senses and realizes that when Sherman is allowed to rule the roost, everyone suffers. I don’t want to talk about how nervous I am about Sherman getting a good night’s rest and good naps with a newborn in the house who will wake loudly at all hours of the day and night. I’m less nervous about the baby sleeping because I think he will get used to the noise (hopefully).

I don’t want to talk about the credit card bill. I don’t want to talk about Train’s new job as head volleyball coach at a high school in our county, a prestigious job with a great team with excellent prospects that will, if nothing else, mean a lot for his career and fulfill him professionally. I don’t want to talk about how as head coach he is actually responsible for three teams (freshman, JV, and varsity) including practices and games, including away games and all-day tournaments on several Saturdays. I don’t want to talk about how we don’t know what to expect as far as having two children, and that I am anxious I won’t be able to handle them both on my own while he’s gone and will end up (a) taking it out on Train and/or (b) totally losing my mind. I don’t want to talk about the fact that both of his graduate programs finish this fall and I worry that he is taking on too much but he simply could not turn down this job.

I don’t want to talk about the fact that the school where he is coaching is on the other side of the county and we just bought a gas-guzzler to hold our growing family, and how Train has been looking for cheap, high-MPG cars on Craigslist. I don’t want to talk about how not only has he been unsuccessful finding something decent, I have a feeling that whatever he brings home, I will make him park it down the street instead of in our driveway.

I don’t want to talk about how much I freaking hate the ice cream truck that drives around our neighborhood, and how irritated I am that last summer I had a whole list of reasons and this year I can’t remember any.

I don’t want to talk about how it’s 4th of July weekend and I have been hearing fireworks in our neighborhood since Tuesday night and I’m sure they will continue through Sunday, and how keyed up I get worrying that they will wake up Sherman and knowing that one of our dogs simply can’t take it. I don’t want to talk about how I consider calling the county police non-emergency line every 20 minutes to complain about the noise but I figure that would be a nuisance. I don’t want to talk about how every year I wonder if we should take Sherman to see fireworks, but I always decide that messing up his bedtime routine isn’t worth it and I worry if I am too uptight of a parent.

I don’t want to talk about how anxious I am about being in the hospital to have this baby and being away from Sherman for at least two days, and if he will totally forget me while I’m gone or hate me when I get back. I don’t want to talk about how I don’t want him to come to the hospital because if he were to come and pitch a fit or tantrum it would stress me out even more. I don’t want to talk about how I want my parents to stay at the house with Sherman so he doesn’t feel like he is being left behind, but I know they want to be at the hospital when the baby is born.

I don’t want to talk about how I don’t know if I should buy a bunch of different types of pacifiers to take to the hospital. I tried 3 different kinds with Sherman before he liked one. I don’t want to talk about how I only have 3 bottles for this baby because I’m afraid we’ll end up switching brands.

I don’t want to talk about work frustrations, and how if I have the baby early I can go on maternity leave but Train will be out of town, so I keep hoping to not deliver early, which is pretty much the opposite of any normal pregnancy instinct. I don’t want to talk about how social security has not been taken out of my last 3 paychecks and I’m doubtful it will be resolved before I go out on leave, meaning not only will I take my leave without pay, but I will owe money when I return.

I don’t want to talk about our five year wedding anniversary next week, and how all I ever want to do on our anniversary is go to Hershey Park with Train, but for the last two years I didn’t want to leave Sherman all day and this year I’m just too damn pregnant. I don’t want to talk about how our plan was to start trying to get pregnant around this time of year and instead I had a freakout last fall and here we are, and how glad I am that I am almost done with this pregnancy and everything seems to be fine. I don’t want to talk about how much of a help Train has been lately in indulging my nesting instincts and increasing lack of control in my own life, and how lucky I am to be his wife and how much our lives have changed and improved in the last five years.

So I’m just not going to post. What is it that you don’t want to talk about today?

it’s the little things June 5, 2008

Kicking it HollowSquirrel style…things I am thankful for:

• Even though I usually complain about it, I’m thankful that most of our house has hardwood floors, because the rug in the living room STINKS and I can only imagine how bad the entire house would smell if it were all carpet.
• Even though I’d really like to get the money so we can pay off our CR-V, I’m thankful that we are only trying to sell a $10,000 truck and not a house (houses in our neighborhood are selling for less than half of what we paid for ours in late 2005).
• Even though I’m starting to get uncomfortable (and actually had contractions - real, non-Braxtion-Hicks contractions - on Monday), I’m thankful that I have not been placed on bedrest, which I think would be torturous right now. 8 weeks to go. I’m thankful that I am still able to give Sherman a bath and put him to bed (in his extremely-low-to-the-ground bed). I’m thankful that the only issue I’ve had is “slight” anemia, and that the iron supplements I’m taking have not totally wreaked havoc on my digestive system.
• Even though Sherman’s four day scary high fever and general lethargy was awful, I am thankful that he is rarely sick (knock on wood) and has never been admitted to the hospital (knock on wood), because I almost punched a doctor just for giving him a strep test. I’m also thankful that it came during a holiday week and Train and I were able to take turns staying home with him without too much rearranging.
• I’m thankful that I feel more sane during this pregnancy, able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’m not sure what everyone around me thinks of my attitude, but I think it’s pretty great, considering.
• Even though Verizon is in our neighborhood laying fiberoptic cable, and they cut our Comcast lines on Monday when they were working in our yard, and Comcast won’t send a technician out until Friday to look at it, and we aren’t even Verizon customers so there is no one else to complain to, I’m thankful that Train was able to hook up our own connection to the junction box so that we have been able to use the internet and watch television. You know, the services we pay out the ass for each month.
• Even though my commute kind of sucks, and doesn’t allow for much flexibility, I am thankful that Sherman doesn’t have to commute with me for an hour each way in the car, and that he is able to wake up and go to daycare at a normal time thanks to Train’s work schedule.
• Even though it seems like Sherman isn’t making much progress in the speech area, I am thankful for the new words that do occasionally pop up, and I am really tickled at how he keeps asking for Train’s brother-in-law Roadrunner to come and play. It is a trip hearing him use people’s names.
• Even though I am stressed that I will go into labor or have a similar emergency in the middle of the night and we will have to call someone to stay with Sherman, I am thankful that my parents will be here the second week of July and I won’t have to worry about it after that. Of course, Train will be out of town but…you take what you can get.
• Even though it’s sometimes kind of embarassing how Sherman usually throws a fit when I arrive to pick him up from daycare, I am thankful that he enjoys daycare and doesn’t instead throw a fit when Train drops him off in the morning.
• Even though it is a TOTAL DRAG, I’m thankful that I am able to pack healthy snacks to take to work along with my lunch and, sometimes, breakfast, because my junk food/candy intake at work was getting ridiculous. I have always packed my lunch, but I find if I make the extra effort to bring snacks from home (for 9am, 10:30am, and 2pm…yes…I take a lot of food with me), I’m not scavenging the snack machines and various candy jars on my floor, and I feel better overall.
• I’m thankful that it’s Thursday and we can semi-relax this weekend because Train finished all of the projects on my MUST DO BEFORE BABY OMG LIST (HOUSE SUBCATEGORY) during Memorial Day weekend. Now I have to start working on my own MUST DO BEFORE BABY OMG LIST (SHOPPING SUBCATEGORY) and MUST DO BEFORE BABY OMG LIST (CLEANING SUBCATEGORY). And pack a hospital bag. Sigh.

to add to the problem, our new car has a DVD player May 16, 2008

When I was a kid, my dad wouldn’t let my mom read fairy tales to me. He thought there were too many scary parts, and didn’t want me to have nightmares. The evil stepsisters in Cinderella, the witches of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, the Big Bad Wolf in Three Little Pigs. Now obviously (and mostly thanks to Disney), I eventually heard and learned these stories like every other kid. My mom and I always gave my dad a hard time about it. I remember I never even saw the “Thriller” video until 8th grade, even though I was a huge Michael Jackson fan as a three-year-old. Dad just thought it would be too scary, and put his foot down. 

Now I’m starting to see the wisdom in his plan. Sherman loves the movie Cars. Honestly, I do too. It’s not annoying yet, and he’s been watching it at least 5 times a week for a few months now. I like the Sheryl Crow song in the beginning, and Mater’s jokes that only adults understand, and the super realistic animation. Plus, I guess any time your kid gets excited about something it’s hard not to get into it yourself.

But what I like the most about this movie is that there are no scary parts. Lightning begins the movie a total jerk and ends up as a totally different car, and does what is right, not just what’s best for himself. The only sad part is when he and Sally talk about the good old days of Route 66 and how the interstate killed Radiator Springs, and the awful James Taylor song that plays during this scene.

Since he enjoyed Cars so much, we added a few more movies to our Netflix queue to see what else he would get a kick out of. We started with Finding Nemo. Train has seen this movie at work about three million times. I had not seen it, and when I walked in on the part where two fish are about to be swallowed by the whale, I got pissed that he hadn’t warned me. It brought back flashbacks of Pinocchio, which (to me) was a dark and scary movie/story. Then he tells me that Nemo’s dad is really overprotective, and never let Nemo swim in open water. “Where else do fish swim?” I ask. “Well, that’s how his mother died.” “WHAT? His mother dies?” “Yes, in the beginning.” “Like in Bambi?” “Well, yeah. And then Nemo goes swimming in open water and gets separated from his father and ends up in a fish tank”. “WHAT?” “And he doesn’t think his dad is coming for him because, well, he doesn’t have a lot of faith in his dad.” At that point I didn’t really want to hear any more. Finding Nemo went back a few days later.

So then we tried Toy Story, which I actually have seen. Bright and sunny. Yeah, the part where the toys get separated from Andy is sad, but at least the toys are together, not left all alone to fend for themselves. Except I forgot about the evil neighbor that burns and mutilates toys. Um, okay, I was 14 when this movie came out and that kid still gave me the creeps. So we found ourselves hovering around the DVD player so we could skip the worst parts of Sid. That one went back immediately, but he actually has asked for “toys” a few times.

I’ve put myself in a bad place here. I recognize now that my dad understood that he and my mom could control the images and ideas that were deposited in my brain for a short time only, and for that time he wanted to keep my world as simple and innocent as possible. Even now Dad gets angry when my uncle tells his daughter that there is an alligator in the bathtub drain. But obviously kids have to learn that not everything in life is easy and happy. I just don’t want to deal with nightmares or weird phobias from a kid who still (STILL) isn’t really verbalizing very much, and would just as soon throw a tantrum than try to communicate.

I think next we’re going to try Ratatouille. What am I getting myself into with that?

surfacing April 16, 2008

Hello there! Oy, has my non-posting been hanging over my head. Busy, busy, blah blah blah. I just today caught up on most of your blogs, and also deleted some subscriptions on my Google Reader, so I am feeling much more capable.

My parents are visiting, and Sherman’s birthday party was this past weekend. It went well and the weather held out for the afternoon. Lauren has some great photos. I can’t decide which my favorite is.

I don’t even really want to talk about it, because living it is more than enough, but our house has been Tantrum City lately. I’m not sure if it’s gotten worse, or if Train and I were just used to it and now having the additional audience of my mom and dad has brought it back into glaring focus. Sherman now hates, with the fires of a thousand hells, getting dressed. WTF? It takes two of us to get him dressed (even to go “outside” like he wants). Lately he doesn’t want to get out of the bathtub. I try to give him plenty of warning…draining the tub (which has the potential to send him spiraling off into Freak Out Land), putting away toys, telling him “I’m going to put away the laundry and when I get back we’re going to get dressed.” Sometimes he gets out willingly but still has a shit fit putting on pajamas. The other night I got him in his fleece sleeper, just to have him ask to take it off half an hour later and run around naked with no diaper. ??? Then there are just the random fits that have no explanation. “Do you want the light on?” “NO NO NO NO NO!” “Do you want the light off?” “NO NO NO NO NO!”

I’m guessing this is the “Terrible Twos”, and like I said, I feel like Train and I had gotten used to it (we take a mostly wait-it-out-slash-ignore-it approach) but it is still…draining. It’s hard to watch your son scream and cry and have no clue what his problem is.

It’s got me thinking more about how in the hell a toddler and a newborn can co-exist in the same house. Surely these fits are going to wake up the baby. And surely the middle-of-the-night crying is going to wake Sherman. I don’t get it. I’m trying not to think about it too much. That worked well for me with my first pregnancy.

Otherwise, Sherman had a great 24-month checkup on Friday, with no shots (just a finger stick), and the doctor even told us we didn’t have to worry about his habit of banging his head on the floor when he’s mad. Just frustration from not being able to communicate. I’ve actually noticed a huge increase in his speech. Sherman is really trying hard to imitate and repeat after us. It’s so exciting!! I always notice a big jump when my parents visit, but that may because I’m around him more during their visits because I take time off work.

In other news, my nosebleeds have gotten worse, and I’m going to see an Ear/Nose/Throat specialist next week. I’m actually very, very excited. I had told Train that as soon as this baby was born, I was going to go get checked out and see if anything could be done (perhaps the blood vessels in my nose could be cauterized, if that was the source). But after a sudden, gushing, messy episode in the car between Kay’s wedding and reception, he encouraged me to make an appointment now. Turns out, according to my OB, most of what the ENT might do to help me will be safe during pregnancy. We’ll see. Hopefully it’s nothing serious, and I can get some real relief.

there will be blood March 16, 2008

Question #24 on the final exam for Advanced Parenting Skills 410:

The weekend before you plan to move your 23-month-old into a “big boy bed” and a new bedroom in preparation for the arrival of his new baby brother in 4 months, he is unusually upset about going to bed. While he occasionally fusses after you leave the room and eventually puts himself to sleep, tonight he is screaming and crying. You and your spouse take turns watching him on the video monitor as his flailings move his crib 4 inches from the wall. Periodically you notice that his head seems to be making contact with the top railing of his crib, but is not accompanied by increased hysteria or injured motions on the video monitor. After about 30 minutes, your son goes to sleep. In the morning, there are pitiful smears of blood on the crib railings and Yertle the Turtle. Your son’s chin is swollen and bruised, although he is in a cheerful mood.

Are you:

(a) completely insane to think that he will sleep peacefully in a “big boy” bed?

(b) congratulating yourself on the timing of the upcoming move, since he obviously wouldn’t survive much longer in the crib?

(c) suggesting to your spouse that pipe insulation be installed around the crib railings to soften the blows?

(d) the worst parents in the world?

random monday (with 20% more parentheses) January 28, 2008

NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK REUNION? EEEEE!!

Seriously, I’m not sure if they are talking about a tour, or a single concert, or what, but wow, what a throwback. I remember my first concert ever, NKOTB, with my mom, her friend, and her friend’s two daughters. I was in third grade. I had to leave school early that day to get fitted for my retainer. But I had also just gotten my hair permed so that I would look good for Jonathan. It was at the Dean Dome. I got the tickets for Valentines Day. That would have been 1990. Every girl in my grade went to that concert and went home and slept on her NKOTB sheets. It’s hard to believe that was almost 20 years ago. Whoa. “Didn’t I blow your mind this time, didn’t I?”
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The 5 Most Wasteful Baby Products

Wow, I’m not sure who this woman is but…we have 4 out of 5 of these products. I don’t pretend to be “green” but I can tell you that we could not (and still cannot) live without the video monitor, END OF STORY. The sleep positioner was to try to mitigate the effects of plagiocephaly (”flat head”), and was doctor-recommended. Although we don’t have the Diaper Genie, we have (and love) the Diaper Champ (which does not use special bags). And the wipes warmer…yeah, I have no explanation for that. We don’t have the “motion sensor” (in fact I hadn’t heard of it), but the one thing I have repeatedly wished for is a poop/smell sensor…it’s hard to tell over the beloved video monitor if Sherman is having a hard time settling down because he’s got a nasty diaper.
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Train took Sherman to the pediatrician Friday for a phantom ear infection (i.e. he was digging in his ear Thursday but there was no fluid). She told Train we needed to take away the pacifier. Apparently Sherman is holding it on the left side of his mouth which is why his front top and bottom teeth don’t touch. Yuck. I had actually noticed that the teeth weren’t even but I figured they just weren’t done coming in yet. Except that the last of them came in about 8 months ago. So, whatever.

Weaning from the pacifier has really been the one thing NOT on my radar. I was focused on the impending room change and the transition from crib to bed. We say all the time that taking it away would probably allow him to talk more, and maybe reduce his drooling. And he really doesn’t need/want it until he sees it. But sometimes it is the quickest and easiest way to calm him down, so we don’t go anywhere without one.

So all weekend he did not have a binky during the day and of course he did fine. Nap time and night time are going to be a little tougher but (knock on wood) I think we’ll be fine. Typically, Sherman goes into the crib with a binky in his mouth, and then I give him one to hold once he is tucked in. On Saturday I was just going to give him one to hold, but he had a massive fit when I turned off Elmo for bedtime and it was the only way to calm him down. He did fine with just one binky. On Sunday I hid a binky in the corner of the crib during his nap and I’m not totally sure (it was hard to tell on the video monitor) but I don’t think he saw it until he woke/sat up (he had it in his mouth when I got him out of the crib). Last night I “hid” it again. Tonight I will either hide it or not put one in at all. And actually, it’s liberating. One less thing to worry about checking off a list of milestones. I am really proud of Sherman.
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This weekend my best girlfriends from college came to visit. It was so nice to have everyone together, most of them haven’t seen Sherman since last summer or longer. He had so much fun with all of them, and we got to go out for a girls-only lunch and to see 27 Dresses, which was amazing. As someone who sees a movie in the theater about twice a year, I am so glad we went to see it. It was hilarious, and who doesn’t like Katherine Heigl? It was truly laugh-out-loud hysterical and even more so because of who I was with. And some great previews…Fool’s Gold and Made of Honor! Lots of yummy guys on Saturday.
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My seriously-in-need-of-a-nail-trim toddler gave me a little scratch on the bridge of my nose at some point this weekend. I remember something stinging, but I usually have no battle scars from the daily abuse of motherhood, so I didn’t think about it until after my shower this morning when it was bleeding. It’s really not that big, but pretty much right in between my eyes. So now my nose is bleeding from the inside and outside.
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I finally saw Gone With the Wind this weekend thanks to Netflix (I just recently finished the book - my mom’s all-time favorite - after New Years). It was great, but I have to say those of you who haven’t read the book are totally cheating. I can’t get over how much they left out…most of all Scarlett’s first two children. Of course they couldn’t film the entire book, that would take days to watch, but I feel about this movie like I do the Harry Potter movies and books…you really can’t appreciate one without the other. The movie to give you faces and scenes to help enhance the book, and the book to give you the true background and inner thoughts of the characters in the movie.

and if worse comes to worst, there’s always Supernanny January 16, 2008

Have you ever heard someone defend or explain their child’s tantrums or other behavior by saying that they are grateful that their child has a personality instead of being ho-hum and bland? Well, I have actually gotten to that point with Sherman, but I’m okay with it.

We are assuming that Sherman (at 21 months) is getting into the “terrible twos“. To be honest, I have suspected the beginning of the TTs several times, but it took our daycare provider (Alice) saying something for me to acknowledge that this is probably the real thing.

What am I talking about? The ear-splitting screams, the alligator tears, the red scrunched up face, the clenched teeth, the balled fists, the flailing on the ground. Sometimes because Sherman didn’t get his way and sometimes because Mommy sat on the left hand couch cushion instead of the right hand cushion, or because she flipped open the straw on the sippy cup before handing it to Sherman instead of after. 

Which leads me to the thing I dreaded MOST about parenthood: how to respond? No one wants to listen to a pissed-off toddler, so if spending a few more minutes banging on the computer will make him happy, I have no problem obliging. If I can get 5 more minutes to finish bill paying on the computer by letting him pull all of Train’s books off the bookshelf for the tenth time that day…yank away, baby. I obviously also don’t want to teach Sherman that the way to get what he wants is by COMPLETELY LOSING HIS SHIT for no reason, or by ignoring me when I say “no”. I can usually distract and redirect him into something that makes him forget what he was so mad about. But then there are times like last night, when we really had to get out of the the bathtub, and the tears and whining were so frenetic and sad, when you feel really bad. Like Sherman was devastated at leaving the bathroom, afraid he’d never get to go in again. And then as soon as he got a cup of milk and Elmo, he was all smiles and laughing again, and you realize he is simply testing his limits, and you pretty much feel like a sucker.

I’m assuming a lot of this is from his frustration at communication. He doesn’t have a lot of words, and he knows some sign language, but he can understand everything we say and he can’t reciprocate. I know it’s got to be frustrating, because it’s frustrating for me to watch him get frustrated when all he really needs to do is calm…down…and tell Mommy…what’s…wrong.

But then there are evenings after work when Sherman sits nicely at the dinner table, and signs politely for more banana, and helps me clean up the bath toys, and jumps up and down in delight signing “please” at the prospect of Sesame Street on Tivo, and gives me a huge hug at bedtime before he goes into his crib. And I try to freeze-frame those moments, file them for reference, and bring them out in the middle of the worst tantrums before I lose my cool too. Those tantrums when you think…how is this child ever going to deal with society, if he screams and kicks over diaper changes? And is it my fault that he acts like this?

But in moments of sanity, when Train and I can look at each other over a tantrum and laugh at his dramatics, I am thankful that Sherman is passionate about things, even if he is a little too passionate. Because we are not people who like to be told what to do, and when, so why should Sherman? And like Mom always said, “this too shall pass” and I can only hope it passes before we cause irreparable harm to his worldview.

mama don’t preach January 10, 2008

I recently started reading ParentDish (mainly because Sarah forced me to start reading All & Sundry and she blogs there too).

Recently Linda posted at ParentDish about how her relationship with her dog (her pre-baby baby) has changed since her son was born. I can 150% relate to this post and I was so grateful she wrote it. I’m ashamed to admit that our two dogs (a 50 lb. Australian Heeler from Train’s senior year of college, and a 6 8 9 lb. chihuahua that Train gave me for our first married Christmas) are much more of a nuisance than a blessing lately. The chihuahua especially was my precious little puppy, who I cradled and spoiled and even took to Key West for a week (on a plane!). I was obsessed with this dog and felt like he was a child. The Heeler, while he was a crazy lunatic dog as a puppy, has matured into a docile indoor dog with sweet sad eyes. Everything revolved around the dogs…vacations were avoided because I didn’t want to be without them. Parties were rearranged so that they wouldn’t be freaked out by the number of people in the house. When we were trying to sell our townhouse, Train took them to a friend’s house EVERY MORNING and picked them up EVERY AFTERNOON so the house could be shown while we were gone and I wouldn’t have to be without them in the evening. My only freakout during labor with Sherman was because I had not anticipated the dogs being alone at night while we were at the hospital, and tearfully begged Train to ask his brother to spend the night at our house.

Lately, the Heeler is always underfoot…either when I’m carrying a load of laundry and he wedges himself in between Sherman’s crib and changing table so I can’t get in the room, or brushing by Sherman as he cautiously makes his way down the steps, sending Sherman tumbling into the basement. Any time I sit down on the floor to play with Sherman, the Heeler paws at me for attention. His nails click as he rumbles down the stairs - which are right outside Sherman’s room - at 5:30 in the morning when I’m leaving for work. As for the chihuahua, he barks at every little thing he hears in and out of the house (especially anything that sounds like a knock, even if it’s just me banging my elbow against the soap dish in the shower), every time the door opens, every time Train comes into the room to go to bed after the chihuahua and I have been asleep…all the time. He’s always done this, it’s nothing new. But now we have a little boy who goes to bed at eight pm and takes a long nap on weekend days, and I feel like all day and night I’m shushing him. They both take food from Sherman, and a lot of times he willingly gives it to them, which is why the chihuahua weighs about 50% more than he should. We don’t walk them because it takes both of us, and it’s too cold/dark to take Sherman out. The chihuahua has already bitten Sherman once, enough to draw blood out of his tiny little hand.

Is any of this the dogs’ fault? Absolutely not. Would our house be emptier and more sad (with piles of food around Sherman’s high chair) without them as part of our family? Absolutely. Do I hope that once Sherman is old enough to play with them, everything will be okay again? Fervently. That doesn’t make it any easier to deal with them on a day to day basis, when some days it’s all I can do to get to work, get home, and get Sherman fed, bathed, and asleep before even focusing on what I need to get done. Last night while eating dinner, I had Sherman on one side of me trying to kiss me, the Heeler on the other side staring up at me right at table level, and the chihuahua prancing around my feet. I almost screamed I felt so claustrophobic…all three of the creatures who depend on Train and I for survival just…hanging on me. (Of course, not for one second was I wishing Sherman would leave me alone…kisses from a very busy little boy are priceless even when covered in chicken and dumplings.)

AAAANNNNNNYWAY, that is totally not what this post is about (and the lessons I wish to teach Sherman about how to treat animals is a whole other post entirely). The reaction to Linda’s post was brutal, but not at all surprising. Most of the commenters could commiserate with her, while a few said they felt sorry for her dog for having to live where she isn’t appreciated, and one suggested that even being euthanized would be preferable to being Linda’s pet.

What this means is not that Linda’s pet care practices are so horrifying, it’s that we women love to pass judgement on others. A lot of you are terrific pet owners, and a lot more into your dogs and cats than I was ever into mine even before Sherman. It’s because of you that I feel ashamed, but I hope that you can understand that every person is different and does what she has to do to make her own life work.  

But when it comes to parenting, the judging hits a fever pitch. And there is a simple reason. To consider another mother’s methods inferior to yours is to feel superior, and what is more important than being a superior parent?

I am well aware of how judging others, and by extension, comparing yourself to them, is poisonous. If I were to make a New Years’ resolution, it would be to try to wean myself from this behavior. I really feel that since I’ve become a parent, and had to eat so many of those “I WILL NEVER…!” statements of my own, that I have really taken a much more open and accepting view of others, and even in that way, I feel better about myself. But I am not perfect.

There is a mother in Train’s hometown, who sometimes ends up at birthday parties and church functions of my in-laws’, who gives her toddler swe.et te.a in her sippy cup, and is always mystified by the fact that Sherman, who is three months older than her daughter, weighs less than she does. Of course this is just one example of some of the things she allows her daughter to do. She is a nice person, but I will admit that the choices she makes in her life/marriage/parenting are simply too astounding for Ditto and I to resist dissecting them. Does that make us bad people? YES. This woman, like me, is doing the best she knows how. But it makes us feel like Supermoms to see someone making choices that we deem to be…misguided. 

When the mother of the other little boy at our in-home daycare decided to put her son in a center after a minor miscommunication with our provider (leaving Sherman as the only kid in her care), I questioned whether or not I should put Sherman somewhere else where he could interact with other children, even though he was perfectly happy, safe, and healthy with Alice. It bolstered me to consider that the other little boy will probably come down with a lot more colds and viruses now that he is in a daycare center. So I was mollified by the fact that this 9 MONTH OLD might be sicker this winter because I thought his mother overreacted. WTF??? Don’t I know a million kids who go to daycare centers who are just fine?? This is the brutal, illogical game that mothers play.

Overall, I have at least learned to keep my judging to myself. If it is this ingrained female behavior that I have to consciously repress, the least I can do is not contaminate anyone else with my venom. For some reason, while most people are more bold with their criticism online where they can hide behind a computer, it is on the internet that I have learned to be more tolerant. Perhaps because I feel like I know more details about your lives than the ”strangers” that I interact with in real life. I know you are a good mom who wants to do her best in everything she takes on. I am also aware of this constant practice of bringing each other down electronically and it makes me want to stay out of that fray. It is easy for me to not only refrain from leaving a nasty comment (not least because I know you are a real person on the other end, just like me), but to avoid even thinking something ugly, because I’ve got my hands full with my family and the last thing I want to take responsibility for is raising your kids my way too.

It’s useless to bemoan this “sanctimommy” because for every nasty comment I see, there’s another one lambasting the original offender, and obviously that sort of vicious circle has not produced results. So I just do my part in refraining from passing judgement, and even waiting until asked for assvice.

Updated to add this link (from ParentHacks): The Parent Blame Game