Midwestern Mommy

The hubby and I were one of those couples who couldn’t wait to find out the sex of our baby. I remember the moment we laid eyes on our little boy — and his privates. There he was in black and white, grainy glory — giving us the finger.

My first thought was “What in the WORLD am I going to do with a boy?” Its not that I didn’t like boys. They just sort of scared me because I didn’t understand the them. 

Now that I have a little boy, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Its been an educational and entertaining journey to say the least. But then again, I still don’t understand the boys that are older than Seth — especially the ones that range from 8 to 12-ish.  I call that ”the meat head stage”. Why is it fun to beat the crap out of each other? Why is it hysterically funny to fart in someone’s face? Just. don’t. get.

A few days ago, three neighbor boys (in this age range) were hurling aluminum bats at each other. They weren’t running away from the bats, they were trying to CATCH them. For fun! (These are sweet kids with great parents, by the way.)

Last week Seth’s play date Nick was telling us about his big brother’s best friend “Scooter”. And how Scooter once knocked Nick down and peed in his face. At the time I assumed Scooter was a dog. But nope. Scooter is a person. (Don’t know anything about Scooter. But my guess as to Scooter’s future? Involves at least two trips to jail and if he’s lucky, a stint in some ”g0lden sh0wer” type porn. )

I know my sweet, albeit squirrelly, little boy will have us visiting urgent care facilities in a few years due to his own meat head antics. It seems to be some rite of passage. But thinking about it makes my palms sweat. Who knew the temptation to wrap a kid in 32 layers of bubble wrap could be so strong? 

P.S. Just reviewed a cool new kids toy thanks to Parent Bloggers Network. For my review, click here.

While at a certain camp in New Jersey, we bloggers learned of a very cool program cleverly named InfantSEE.  Many of us were amazed — we feel like a pretty in-the-know lot. But most of us had never heard of this program, let alone taken advantage. Since many readers of this little blog are moms with young kids, I wanted to pass this info along.

Most parents don’t think twice about scheduling/schlepping kids to doctor and dentist appointments.  But for some reason we usually don’t think about our kids’ vision. Many of us (me included) assume that if there was an early vision problem, the pediatrician would catch it. But that’s not always the case. And vision problems, especially undiagnosed ones, affect the way your child learns, interprets and interacts with the world.  And that’s why there’s InfantSEE.

 According to the organization’s website, “InfantSEE® is a public health program designed to ensure that eye and vision care becomes an integral part of infant wellness care to improve a child’s quality of life… Our member optometrists will provide a comprehensive infant eye assessment within the first year of life as a no cost public health service. ”

For a list of participating doctors as well as information on your baby’s eye health and program background, check out the organization’s site. K? 

P.S. Oh and if you get really heavy periods? You might want to read the piece I posted on Midwestern Mommy Reviews.

A few months ago, when Seth started singing, “Bow Chicka, Bow Woooowwww.” I laughed out loud.

He has no idea what that means. But he learned it on the bus. (And now every time he does that I think of Jess and her park ranger fetish.)

The other day, he came home with a new one…  At dinner he referred to some other kid on the bus (a 5th grader) as being a “bad-ass mofo.” Stunned, I asked him to repeat what he’d just said. Stoically, he obliged.

He’s five.

I tried not to laugh. It was difficult. He knows what curse words are. He hears me swear like a trucker (when I’m in traffic) quite frequently. But he knows that as a kid, he’s not allowed to say those kind of words. (Ah yes, the “do as I say and not as I do” parenting method.) He also didn’t understand what he was saying were curse words, (as ”badass” and ”mo-fo” aren’t a part of my repertoire) nor does he know what “mo-fo” means.

But I can’t help but wonder… How can the boy learn so much from one 10-minute bus ride, yet struggle so much in a three-hour kindergarten session? Maybe I should hire a 5th grade boy to teach him how to read? You know, one of those “bad ass mofo” ones.

 So… Let’s talk about sex. Or more aptly a book called Sex Detox. A review of the book, on behalf of PBN can be found here.

(This post is dedicated to Marty, who just gave birth to a little boy as well as Julie, who’s pregnant with a little boy.) 

There are certain things about parenting a little boy that you don’t think about when you’ve got one “in the oven” and are lovingly folding little blue onesies in anticipation.

Like how little boy babies smell so sweet. But that scent wears off as they grow. And soon, you find that sweaty little boy smells alot like wet puppy.

Or how a man’s love for the remote control starts as an infant. See this pic? (Click on it to enlarge.)  That’s how we got Seth to roll over. Put the remote control JUST out of his reach. 

You probably already know that little boys LOVE their wieners. And how as toddlers, if they aren’t playing with it, they are showing it off. A bath for a toddler boy just means quality time with the wiener without impediments. Some little boys, (I won’t mention names) even like to sleep with one hand in their pants. My only guess is that they are trying to ensure their beloved body part isn’t stolen by some hapless creature with penis envy in the thick of night.

And of course there’s that time when those little boys are finally potty trained. A novice mom like me rejoiced thinking this would mean less work. But a mom who’s been down this path knows better.  (She might not tell you this but I will.) Little boys have HORRIBLE aim. Actually, alot of MEN have horrible aim. This just means that instead of changing a diaper? You are wiping down walls, the side of the vanity, natches in the trim, the toilet, underneath the bowl, the sides of the toilet, the wastebasket, and the toilet paper holder and the floor. If your child has some serious “water pressure”? You may even be wiping down the sink or mirror. In this case, hardwood floors aren’t really a good idea.  Oy.

But those little boys sure are cute. And cuddly. And loving. Be prepared for the marriage proposals your young Oedipus will make as well as the countless dandelions he will diligently pick for you on a summer day. Be prepared for the way he will rush to your defense if you’re pretending to the “the queen” and his dad is “the bad guy” trying to kidnap you. Sure, he might mention your “biiiiiigggg butt” now and again, but he’ll also say things like “You are the prettiest mommy eber” then kiss your nose. What woman can resist that?

And should your son become interested Star Wars? I’m telling you right now… There’s no such thing as “too many” light sabers.

About a year ago, during Seth’s playdate with an adorable little girl, the two decided to play a new game. The young lass, who loved all things Disney Princess, wanted to be “Ariel”, from The Little Mermaid. Seth was to be her honey, “Eric”.

At some point, there was a communication glitch. For some reason, Seth began calling his friend ”Areola.”

At one point, she realized he wasn’t calling her the correct name. But apparently, she liked the new name better. I guess it seemed more exotic or something. Because whenever she came over, she continued to be “Areola, the little mermaid”.

And I continued to fluctuate between, “Should I tell her that’s a name for a boobie body part or should I just let it go because that makes me laugh out loud every time.” To be honest, I let it go for awhile. Basically because I needed a good laugh. But at one point, I told her that “Ariel” was a much prettier name for a princess and that ”Areola” was really the name of Ariel’s stinky pet hamster. And no one really knows about the hamster because it farted so much, they couldn’t include the hamster in the movie. 

God only knows what she told her parents that night at the dinner table. But after that, “Ariel” returned. We never heard about “Areola” again.

The template I love, love, LOVE has gone all spastic on me. I have NO CLUE what happened so I’m trying to find other templates that would work and tailor the sidebars. Ain’t working so well, so you may have to deal with ugly chaos for a few days until I figure out what to do. Bah! Am irritated. Sorry. Will fix as soon as I can.  

Today I volunteered in Seth’s kindergarten class. I was eager to see how he fared in his new environment and meet his new friends. And I couldn’t wait to speak with his teacher. His school was built not more than 15 years ago and has a very cheerful decor — both inside and outside. The school has mostly open classrooms. When I saw the open classroom during the “meet your kindergarten teacher” day, I didn’t really think anything of it.

But today, in Seth’s classroom, I got to witness what such a layout creates. And it creates? Bunches of distraction.  The teacher’s biggest gripe about Seth has been his lack of focus. In fact, I’ve already gotten one call and this past week, a note. I had been irritated with the boy until today. Today, I understood.

There’s no way I could learn or focus with so much noise and activity from other classrooms.  (The kindergarten shares space with the first grade, so there are several sets of kids in one area.) In fact, it was sort of overwhelming. If I feel that way in the midst of that environment, how can I expect HIM to give his teacher his undivided attention?

At one point, I was helping a group of kids work on a project in the shared multipurpose room. Another volunteer from a different classroom was helping her group of kids. They were making bird houses ten feet from our table. They were using hammers most of the time. Seriously! WTF? I had a difficult time hearing the kids I was working with and they had a hard time hearing me. They couldn’t concentrate on their work. And after 10 minutes of incessant banging, I was ready to stick those hammers where the sun don’t shine. Plus, you’ve got at least one kid every few minutes walking through the open area go to the bathroom or wash hands.

And what about germs? It seems so unsanitary. Hey, why don’t we just have the kids take turns licking the same handrail? And why don’t we all scream mathematical equations at them while doing so. Who KNOWS what bit of wisdom they’ll glean from THAT experience.

Our school is not quite 15 years old, and we’re in a fairly affluent school district. So I have to wonder what fools decided this sort of layout was a good idea. And WHY? And what about kids who have ADD or have sensory issues. Many of them have a tough time with these types of distractions? Plus? How do the kids stay healthy while trying to learn new skills? (I can tell them right now that my child is going to miss alot of school due to stomach viruses — especially since their sick policy is far too lenient. Kids can come back to school if they haven’t vomited in 12 hours. And they can have a fever if its less than 100 degrees. Again, WTF!)

So my question to ya’ll is, do you have any experience with open classrooms and this kind of sick kid policy? And if so, what do you think of them? And can anyone tell me WHY these types of classrooms are still around. (I’m ready to buy 30 tons of drywall and git ‘er done myself!)

I would like to see the principle and superintendent do THEIR work in the middle of such a classroom — especially when surrounded by a group of children who are barely over a stomache virus.

But Seth LOVES, LOVES, LOVES his school. And I want to send him to public school — at least for his first eight years. But I’m left wondering if there will be a change in school “scenery” for Seth soon. I’m hoping that today was just a ”busier” day than usual. I guess need few more volunteer sessions to gauge the levels of noise and general chaos. But I’d LOVE to hear your input.

This morning as the hubby was leaving for work, Seth, Abbeydog and I followed him out, waving our goodbyes. While on the front porch, we noticed bunko babe/neighbor/friend Jess pushing a stroller with her two-year-old son at her side. 

We waved and she came over to visit a bit. Her son, Caleb, climbed up onto our porch to pet Abbeydog.  He was SO excited to see her! His face was ablaze with happiness. He was enthusiastically talking and pointing. And he was petting her much more lovingly than Seth ever does. It was a sight that would melt the blackest of tarry hearts. Norman Rockwell couldn’t have created a sweeter scene.

That is, until Abbey turned her body a bit to reveal her back end. Adorable little Caleb noticed that dark circle under the root of her tail. (You know where this is going, don’t you?) In true toddler form, he decided to um… check out it out. Using… what else? His fingers.

Well, I don’t think dogs worry much about alien probes. But if they’re smart, they’d be more discerning about inquisitive two-year-olds.

Upon seeing two of Caleb’s little fingers “poke around” for a second, I told Jess. I washed his hands while she stayed outside with the other kiddos. He screamed the entire time. He was upset that I whisked him away from the dog, scared that he could no longer see his mom and indignant about me washing his hands. (That kid’s going to be 16 someday and he won’t understand why he’s so leery of me.)

Abbey hardly reacted. I’m largely relieved. But I have to admit that I’m also a bit alarmed too. I can’t help but wonder –did Seth, as a two-year-old, desensitize her to this sort of thing? And if he did, how on earth does he still have all ten fingers?

Its probably a good thing Abbeydog can’t talk. But if she could, she’d no doubt, be able to commiserate with those getting colonoscopies. Or gyno exams.

I just spent two hours on a post. And then erased it.

Sometimes you start writing about the problem. You pour your heart out. And its only when you get to the end of the post that you realize that the real issue? Is in that final, carefully constructed sentence.

I’ve never seen myself as a mother of an only child. I have always assumed I would have at least two or three kiddos. The hubby and I have been trying for more than two years now with no luck. Part of me has felt sad. But part of me has felt “ok” with it. And therein lies the problem.

Seth was a difficult baby. He didn’t sleep much, had alot of ear infections and had colic. Later, he morphed into a difficult toddler. He still didn’t sleep through the night. He didn’t talk. Several times a day, for not discernible reason he would SCREAM into my crotch. Many days I felt emotionally strung out and exhausted by 10 a.m. I was also battling 15-25 migraines a month. I felt like such a crappy mom. And my husband? Was traveling alot and working 60-80 hour work weeks. When he was home, the last thing he wanted to do was deal with a screaming child — especially one that hardly recognized him. It was a very tough few years. And our marriage barely survived.

It wasn’t until after a year of working closely with speech and occupational therapists that I began to really enjoy my son. He has as a Sensory Integration issue. You wouldn’t know it now though, thankfully. But he needs a bit more attention than your average kid. The migraines are better these days but I do know that every few years, my body goes all spastic and I get 15-25 a month for 9-12 months in a row.

And I wonder, could I be pregnant and care for a baby all over again? And this time with an older child? What if the second child has special needs (more so than what Seth had)? Would we be emotionally equipped to be good parents? We could adopt. That’s not out of the question. But the bigger issue is simply… Can we give a second child the energy and patience he or she would need? Can I be the kind of mother another child would need me to be? And would our marriage thrive or crumble as a result?

There’s NOTHING wrong with having one child. I know alot of wonderful only children. But that adage, “You don’t regret the kids you had, you regret the kids you didn’t have” haunts me. 

So the big questions I have for ya’ll are…. How did you know when you were ready for more children? How did you know when you were finished? When you added on to your family, did you think you’d have the patience and energy you’d need? And in having more children, do you now think you have the patience and energy you need? Spill it, lovelies! I am in great need of your wisdom!

Haikus

Oh little boy Seth
Your toys litter various rooms.
PLEASE, please pick them up.

Black, white and spotted
Abbeydog, get OFF the bed.
And please barf outside.

My dear Honeybuns
I love you so much more when –
you aren’t so gassy.

Oh lovely Dyson
A quite talented vaccum –
well worth the money.

Cool bloggin’ mommies
Reading your posts keep me sane.
I love all of you.

This past Thursday my son offhandedly mentioned he had proposed marriage to a little girl named Taylor at preschool that morning.

According to him, not only did she accept, but they put on their wedding clothes, and Seth’s friend Owen married them. Owen did double duty as the “picture taker” too.

I asked Seth if he and Taylor were going on a honeymoon. He said, “No we can’t right now. Cause we have to get home to the babies.”

“I’m a grandma?” I asked.

“Yup,” he answered in his very serious little boy way. “We have three boys and two girls.”

“Wow. You move fast,” I said. “Where are the babies now?”

“They’re with Taylor at her mom and dad’s house,” he replied.

Seth and I made a deal at that moment. I told him that he is allowed to grow up and get married — but only if he lives right next door to me. He told me that he’d like to live with us. He plans to buy the house next to us and tear it down so that he could have some land to farm. I’m not quite sure how he’ll raise cattle as well as grow corn and beans on a .25 acre lot. And I have no clue where he intends to situate his tractors but he’s pretty confident he can do it.

That night at bedtime, per usual, he asked me to lay by him for a few minutes…

“But Seth. You’re a married man,” I told him. “You’re officially too big to have your mommy lay by you.”

This resulted in some crying and the proclamation that he’d always be my little boy and that he NEEDED me to lay by him.

Of course I caved. It won’t be too long before some girl catches his eye and steals his heart. And I have a strong feeling that in a few short years, his plans of living next door to his momma will change.