From babies to big kids, all too soon

September 24, 2004

The girls got to cheer this morning in the community pep rally (or “pepper alley,” as Miss Attitude calls it). Tonight is the homecoming game, and the high school always has a big pep rally for the community and ALL the schools to attend. The Drama Queen and Miss Attitude were among a group of “little” girls who were invited to do a couple cheers with the “big girls.” They were sooooo excited and sooooo cute! Now, I have to say, I’ve thought for years that all cheerleaders are the spawn of Satan. But it looks like I’ll have to get over that slight aversion to anything bouncy, perky and peppy, since it looks like my sweet little girls are leaning in that particular bouncy, perky, peppy direction.

It was so much fun to watch them. The little girls in that group were more exuberant and enthusiastic than anyone else on the football field, including the high school cheerleaders AND the football players! Those little girls jumped around and clapped and yelled their little hearts out. SOOOOO adorable!

I swear, I get emotional ANYTIME I watch my kids perform at ANYTHING like that. Singing in the church children’s choir….mom tears up. First grade play….mom’s bawling again. Sitting here now, I can just THINK about the girls being out there on that field this morning, and I swear it feels like my heart might burst.

Those girls absolutely drive me nuts with their fighting and whining and misbehaving, but I love them so much it hurts.

The first time I looked into The Drama Queen’s eyes, I knew my heart would never recover. All those childbirth classes, all the books on motherhood, nothing could have prepared me for that moment when I looked into my newborn’s eyes and handed her my soul. And it didn’t stop with the first child, either. Nope. No way. Each one looked at me and made my heart swell up into my throat. And I held them and smelled them and nuzzled them, and I just wanted to wrap my whole self around them and never let go.

It’s that way now, with Baby Boy. He’s so bright-eyed and smiley and slobbery…..just the cutest, sweetest thing there ever was. You know, once your babies aren’t babies anymore, you forget how you just fall in love with them over and over every day when they’re little like that……how they can grin that gummy grin and say “nn-guh” and you just think, My God, surely there’s never been a sweeter, smarter, more adorable and perfect child than this one!

And so, now, I must go ponder how quickly my babies are growing up, how the time is slipping away from me and there’s nothing I can do about it. And I will be very sad and cry a lot.


Guilt, Shame, and Antonio Banderas

September 21, 2004

I did something awful yesterday. It wasn’t something I meant to do; I didn’t even realize I had done it at the time. It was totally and completely unintentional, but the guilt and shame will haunt me for a while….

I made Deputy Dad feel like I don’t think he’s a…well, competent father. I didn’t mean to. See, Baby Boy was home with Deputy Dad yesterday morning while I was at work. (We don’t have a sitter right now, so we’re tag-teaming the work/baby thing.) We were talking about their morning after I got home at noon, and I asked a (seemingly) benign question….something along the lines of Do you check on him when he’s napping?, and next thing I knew Deputy Dad was being cool and distant. Now, we women are supposed to be the sensitive ones….but, I swear to you, I had NO CLUE what the problem was, NO IDEA why he was acting all pissy. When he finally told me how I’d made him feel (That’s right, my MAN actually talked about his FEELINGS….Notify the press!), I felt HORRIBLE. He said he didn’t think I trusted him with the kids. That I’m always asking stuff like that. That I act like, if he’s not doing things MY way, he’s doing them wrong.

Guilt, guilt, guilt. Shame, shame, shame.

Fact is, Deputy Dad’s a TERRIFIC father. Sweet and (mostly) patient with the kids, doesn’t mind changing diapers (even the REEEEALLY bad ones), and even spends the day caring for his son, after he’s just worked half the night before. He’s a CHAMPION of dads. The absolute BEST. And I’ve told him on numerous occasions (not just Father’s Day – Honest!) how terrific I think he is. But, apparently, I was mixing these “you’re the best” signals with some “I don’t trust you with my kids” signals. Man, do we have issues here.

So I was forced to give him the “It’s not you, it’s me” speech….and, really, it IS. Every mom knows how we constantly worry about our children…every minute, every hour, every day. Compound that maternal worry with the fact that I’m just a worrier by nature, and you’ve got a recipe for an anxiety cocktail. (Hold the little plastic sword; it’s surely a choking hazard!) If I’m not with Baby Boy, in person, monitoring his every breath, I must certainly ask a million questions of the person who WAS there… MANY breaths, exactly? Did he seem warm? or cold? How much did he eat? sleep? pee? poop? Was his intake greater than, less than, or equal to his output?

Okay, so maybe I’m not quite THAT bad….but I certainly SEEM that way to Deputy Dad. So I apologized my butt off, reminded him that I’m just a Nervous Ninny, especially since we lost a baby to miscarriage about two and a half years ago, and silently vowed to try to keep my anxiety in check, or at least keep it to myself.

We “kissed and made up” and carried on with our lives, but the guilt stayed with me. And, as if THAT guilt weren’t enough…….I’m embarrassed to even be typing this…….I dreamed about Antonio Banderas last night. *Giggle*

Now, I’m really not one to swoon over movie stars….and Antonio Banderas is not even one of the actors that I might ordinarily be tempted to drool over, so I don’t know where the dream came from, except that I saw about a 30-second segment of a movie with him in it, as I was flipping through the channels yesterday afternoon.

Anyhow, I won’t go into any detail, since it’s just plain boring when people start telling about their dreams…….and then we were chewing Juicy Fruit gum in this house made out of Barbie dolls, only it wasn’t really a house, it was a boat, and…..who cares? I will say that there wasn’t any SEX in the dream….it’s important to me to go ahead and put that out there. But I still have this….well, GUILT, that I dreamed about making out with anyone other than my husband, even if I have no control over my dreams, and even if it WAS Antonio Banderas. *Snicker*

So, here I am….all shame and guilt-ridden. And still with some lingering questions about where that dream may have gone if the alarm hadn’t interrupted….

Friday, Sweet Friday

September 17, 2004

Miss Attitude has her first field trip this afternoon. Remember elementary school field trips? How exciting it was to be riding the school bus? The dull (or not so dull) roar of all the children talking all at once, in eager anticipation, not quite knowing what to expect, but, hey, we got out of school for a while and we get to ride this cool bus, so that’s really awesome?

Miss Attitude is in Kindergarten, and is older than most of her class. (The kids have to be five BEFORE September 1st to start Kindergarten, and her birthday is the 12th, so she just turned six.) I swear, some of those kids (especially the ones who just turned five before school started) seem so TINY. Makes me glad Miss Attitude is older….especially since that puts her and The Drama Queen two years apart in school. And being one of the oldest certainly will have its advantages….I think the older kids (especially at this young age) tend to be the leaders. Also, she’s ahead of most of the kids as far as her learning, partly because she’s a little older, and partly because we’ve worked with her (and her sister, who’s also ahead of her class) at home. Now, this is starting to sound like just pure parental bragging…..and I promise I had a point to all this, although I don’t seem to have a clue now what that point was.

Oh yes, the point was that I’m glad Miss Attitude is one of the oldest in her class. It’ll be good for her.

In case you hadn’t noticed, my brain is tired. Actually, my everything is tired. And it’s my own stinkin’ fault. At only three months old, little Baby Boy is actually sleeping anywhere from 5 1/2 to 8 hours (in a row!) each night….but I can’t seem to make myself get to bed at a decent hour. I’m either trying to get stuff done (laundry, etc.), or I’m doing something REALLY important, like vegging out on the couch in front of the TV. It’s usually some time between 11:30 and 2:00 before I finally hit the proverbial hay. Then Baby Boy is up around 3:00 or 4:00. I nurse him and put him back to bed, and then my alarm goes off at 6:00. Sigh.

But at least it’s Friday. And Deputy Dad is off today, which means he’ll be home tonight. (He works nights most of the time, so he’s usually gone in the evenings.) I’m hoping we’ll make each other go to bed fairly soon after we get the kids to bed. We both need the rest.

Top Ten List of Pet Peeves

September 15, 2004

10. People who finish my sentences for me. I know people who do this to anyone they’re talking to….like they’re so friggin’ smart, they can predict exactly what you’re gonna say.

9. People who say, “I could care less.” If you could care less, this implies that you must care some. Come on, people, it’s “I couldn’t care less.”

8. People who use the turn lane as an on-ramp.

7. Neighbors. Don’t get me started.

6. Paul Shaffer. (Letterman’s on right now, and I just can’t stomach that little weasel.)

5. People who dress their pets. And I’m not talking about a little sweater to keep ’em warm in the winter….I’m talking about those stupid little hats. You people know who you are. Get a life, for crying out loud…..and give the poor dog some dignity.

4. Stupid commercials that have nothing to do with the product they’re promoting…..if the viewer makes it to the end of the commercial without a clue what you’re selling, it’s time to get a new advertising agency.

3. People who go the wrong dang way in a parking lot….going up the “down” aisle, or vice-versa. I just wanna shoot those people….and I don’t even like guns!

2. People who butcher the English language, like those who say “ideal” when they mean “idea”….or those (like my dear, sweet hubby) who say, “I SEEN so-and-so at the store yesterday.” Aarrgh.

1. Parents who park their car in the middle of the damn street at the school, and get OUT of the car to go get their kid (or drop them off). This happened today……cars parked on both sides of the street, and these idiots….two cars in a row!….parked in the MIDDLE of the damn street and blocked traffic while they got OUT of their cars, went and got their kids, then came back to the car, loaded up the kids, and finally moved their self-centered butts out of everyone else’s way. These people I just want to kill with my bare hands….or perhaps a blunt instrument.


September 13, 2004

Hmmmm….my own blog. Interesting. Though not necessarily interesting to anyone other than myself. But it’s been said that anyone who writes something, anything, even in “secret,” actually wants it to be read. I guess that’s true enough. I’ve written plenty before, wondering what someone might think of my incoherent ramblings someday. So I suppose this is my attempt at sending those ramblings out into the world.

If you’re reading this (and I suppose you must be…if you’re just looking at the mix of letters, spaces, and punctuation without actually reading it, never mind), you can call me LadyBug. I am a thirty-year-old (yes, that’s right….thirty….I’m still trying to get used to that) wife and mother of three amazing kids….two sweet little girls (The Drama Queen is seven, and Miss Attitude turned six only yesterday.) and one round, plump little three-month-old, Baby Boy.

I have a part-time office job, and spend the rest of my time chasing my children, chauffeuring the girls to and from school, and nursing little Baby Boy. My kids are my life; and you may as well know that right up front, as there are sure to be lots and lots of ramblings about them, including not only how awesome and wonderful they are, but also how they can absolutely drive me nuts. So if listening to people go on and on about their children makes you want to run a sharp stick through your eye, you’d better go ahead and click yourself on outta here.

I’ve been married for eleven years (gosh, it’s hard to believe it’s been that long) to Deputy Dad, a terrific guy who is truly a rare find…..loving, caring and sensitive, but a real MANLY man…..macho (but not in that off-putting way some men are), with broad shoulders and strong arms, just right for cuddling and making me feel safe. Oh, and he’s a cop (a Deputy Sheriff, actually)….which also helps me feel safe, but also makes me worry constantly for his safety. More on that later.

I’m hoping to keep this blog updated pretty regularly. I sometimes have a tendency to get too busy to keep up with much of anything. Of course, I’m sure this blog will just have a HUGE following of readers who are just DYING to hear about The Drama Queen’s and Miss Attitude’s school parties….or who couldn’t BEAR to go a day without knowing how many times Baby Boy went poop.

But writing, for me, is a kind of therapy, I think. So, if for no other reason than my own sanity, I hope I’ll be consistent and somewhat regular in my postings.