It’s not secret to most of my friends that I’ve spent a considerable amount of time over the years visiting pregnancy and parenting message board. During my pregnancy with Noah, online was the only place I could go to ask questions of other moms to be. We didn’t have a wide circle of friends that had children, and then after Noah was born we simply didn’t have any friends in Arizona with kids. We were flying blind, but going online for support made me feel better.
For the most part, I mostly read when I visit online communities. I am not a prolific poster for a couple of reasons. Most of the time it’s because someone else has already said what I would say, or because I am lazy. Over the years, I’ve become pretty savvy about online communities and the personalities that participate.
The Drama Queens: They can’t go to the bathroom without there being some type of crisis that makes it a less than spectacular experience. These moms flip out on anyone who looks at them or their children sideways. Though generally kind and well-meaning, the Drama Queens are almost always worried about something. And more often than not, that something is minor.
The Complainers: Someone is always doing something to make them mad and piss them off. This would include husbands, in-laws, their OBGYNS/pediatricians, teachers, boyfriends, siblings, friends, and other children. The women in this category are notorious for making other people’s problems their problems. You sometimes want to reach out and grab them and say, “Why do you give a shit that your pregnant sister in law is throwing a hissy fit because she didn’t get the stroller she wanted?” The Complainers have also never been wrong about anything. Ever.
The Experts: In every online community there are 2-3 moms who are simply perfect. They are usually BTDT (been there, done that) moms who may not know everything about everything (and will admit it), but people treat them as such. Other members look to them for advice and leadership. Someone can post a question and 15 people and respond with the same answer. But if the 16th response comes from an Expert it will be received as gospel. Other women seek them out for their wisdom and support. And Experts often achieve their status by posting a response to every single message on a board. Their is power is numbers.
The “I-Would-NEVER” Moms: These are the moms who WOULD NEVER give their baby formula. Who WOULD NEVER vaccinate their children. Who WOULD NEVER let their babies “cry-it-out” and who WOULD NEVER circumcise their sons. And Who WOULD NEVER give birth in a hospital with an epidural. These same moms also WOULD NEVER pass judgment on another mom because women need “to make the best decision for you and your baby” (wink-wink).
The Cheerleaders: No matter what someone posts, they are loving and supportive. I used to belong to a community where a member posted that her five kids were removed from the home by CPS. The Cheerleaders rallied around her, reassuring her that she’s a terrific mom (whom they had never met in real life) and that CPS doesn’t know their ass from their elbow (which they do) and that this was all a mistake (which is wasn’t, since the kids weren’t returned for 18 months).
The Attention Seekers: These women have yet to realize that if I Google their screen name I can find out everything about them except their social security number. They relentlessly post personal information (and pictures!) about themselves online. Including but not limited to: husbands, children, fertility history, sex life, political views, financial history, educational background, and place of residence. Many seem to think that knowing someone “online” is the same thing as knowing someone “IRL” (in real life).
Which brings me to a post I saw today. Read the message below and see if you can figure out what category she belongs in:
Discussion title: Ready for summer? Be brave ladies.
Replies:32
From: XXXX
Date: Jun 2 4:06 pm
We have been in the pool for nearly a month now and will practically live in it for the next 4-5mo so I am really excited for lots of swimming as things get really hot around here in Arizona.
Are you ready???? Okie dokie ladies, are you brave enough to show your 2009 swim suit? I went pink, what do you think??? Every year I get a new suit, I love 'em.
And there itwas. Below her elaborate signature and myriad of blinkies (including one designed to look like a House of Pancakes Billboard that said, “Boobie House, open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year) was a picture. Of her posing seductively in hot pink bikini.
She didn’t create this post for feedback on her swimsuit. She was fishing for compliments on how she looked in her swimsuit. That’s exactly what 31 other posters did. They RAVED about how after three kids she didn’t have any stretch marks and how awesome she looked. And while a few other women bravely (stupidly?) posted pictures of themselves in bathing suits and she politely complimented them on how they looked, that really wasn’t the point of her post, was it?
But the pièce de résistance is this: the mom who bragged about quitting breastfeeding so she could get a boob job posted a picture of herself (and her MONSTER "bewbies") in a bikini with the following message, "Good thing I bought those bewbies to even out those big hips! ha!"
Am I missing something? And by the way, if you speak like a baby and refers to your breasts as "bewbies" then I question you maturity to get them in the first place.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
He's Really a Native
Last night I was watching Michael Jackson video's on You Tube, including the full length "Thriller" video. Noah came in the room and wanted to watch. Since it was 8:30p.m. , I didn't think a 4.5 year old watching zombie's was a smart move (I had visions of nightmares at 3am). But he persisted and I explained that this was just a movie and that these were pretend monsters.
To which Noah replied:
"Monsters don't live in Arizona. It's too hot for them to live here."
He totally gets it.
To which Noah replied:
"Monsters don't live in Arizona. It's too hot for them to live here."
He totally gets it.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
It Will Get Easier
When regular people see me out with my kids they tend to say, “Oh, you have twins. Better you than me!” When twin moms see me out in public they say, “It will get easier.”
Did I complain? Did I do anything but acknowledge that yes, I have twins and how cute your twins are?
Being a parent of twins is like being a member of a secret club. Because you can’t truly understand what having twins is like until you have done it. You can try to imagine what it would be like, but it’s not the same. And while there are some similarities to having children close in age, having twins is different because everything is always double. Double the diapers. Double the formula. And yes, double the crying.
There is an instant camaraderie twin mom’s feel when they meet one another. They get it, because they have been in my shoes. The reality is that having twins IS hard. Even if I didn’t have a full-time job, a husband, a house, an older child, and two dogs it would still be hard. And I am hesitant to complain about how hard it is sometimes out of fear that people will think I am being ungrateful for the blessings we have received. I know more than a few families that had to fight hard to have children. So what right do I have to complain when it came so easy to me? That said, why do perfect strangers feel it necessary to say things like this?
Perhaps this is their way of quietly acknowledging that raising multiples is hard and that it is socially unacceptable to talking about some of less glamorous aspects of parenthood. This includes but is not limited to:
* Poop, in general
* Poop all over the bed.
* Vomit
* Vomit all over the bathroom
* Vomit all over brand new car seats
* Regurgitated mac n’ cheese
* Leaky boobs
* Leaky boobs in public places
Now multiply this list by two.
Is it just me or is this post going nowhere? Well, maybe it was going somewhere but someone (Hannah? Abbie?) is crying.
Yeah. It’s 10:03 p.m. and apparently I didn’t get the email about it being “Happy-Happy-Fun-Time.”
Monday, June 8, 2009
Everybody Loves Raymond (Dan)
Where to begin.
Yesterday afternoon Dan announced that he was tired and that he really wanted to get a good night’s sleep. As opposed to playing Vampire Wars on Facebook until god knows when, he decided that he was going to go to bed by 11pm. Fine.
I feel asleep around 10:30pm. I was so tired that my entire body hurt. Dan eventually came to bed and about a minute after he turned out the light he woke me up to tell me that Noah was calling for me (I sleep with earplugs).
“MOOOMMMYYY. . .I need you! My tummy hurts!”
Noah is many things, including a master manipulator when he doesn’t want to go to bed. And I am weak in the middle of the night. Half of the time, it’s easier to give in so everyone can go back to bed. Not knowing if Noah actually had a stomachache or if he had had a bad dream, I told him he could sleep in our bed. That usually does the trick. And since Noah squirms when he sleeps I offered to sleep in Noah’s room. Noah is happy that he can sleep in our room and I get a bed to myself. It’s a win-win for everyone.
About 45 minutes later Noah comes into his room, wakes me up by whining that his stomach hurts. Next thing I know, he’s getting sick all over the bathroom. And we didn’t quite make the bowl.
Have I mentioned that Dan is still sleeping?
I calmed Noah down and then I woke up Dan. Noah is 50% his kid, which means my problem is half of his problem. And let’s face it. . .at this point I wasn’t completely convinced that Dan was actually sleeping. He’s known for being a light sleeper and I wasn’t sure how he magically slept through the drama.
Dan and I cleaned Noah up and then we surveyed the damage. At which point Dan offered to clean up the bathroom IN THE MORNING.
My husband, whom I love, wanted to let a vomit covered bathroom ferment all night so he could go back to bed. In his mind, this represented a wise and thoughtful idea. He was being considerate of his wife and her nocturnal needs (apparently, we have different definitions of wise, thoughtful, and considerate).
I told Dan I would clean up the mess. He looked at me and said “okay.” Faster than you can say “goodnight,” he had tucked himself in bed with Noah. With a blue bowl separating them. I would never wish for any of my kids to get sick. Yet in that moment all I could think to myself was how AWESOME it would be if Noah puked all over Dan while he was sleeping.
Armed with Lysol wipes, paper towel, a plastic bag and a industrial sized can of Lysol spray I cleaned the bathroom and threw the trash away outside (have I mentioned that I am afraid of going outside alone at night). Now I am WIDE-awake. And every time Noah makes a noise I jump and run to the bedroom thinking that he’s going to be sick again.
Thirty minutes later Dan stumbles out of bed and finds me on the computer.
“Honey, how come you’re still awake? You should go to bed.”
Really. He has no idea how lucky he is that I didn’t post any of this on Facebook. Revenge could have been fun. And public.
P.S. Noah is fine. The reality is that he played hard this weekend and he ate more crap that he should have. These things have a way of catching up with little people at 1am.
Yesterday afternoon Dan announced that he was tired and that he really wanted to get a good night’s sleep. As opposed to playing Vampire Wars on Facebook until god knows when, he decided that he was going to go to bed by 11pm. Fine.
I feel asleep around 10:30pm. I was so tired that my entire body hurt. Dan eventually came to bed and about a minute after he turned out the light he woke me up to tell me that Noah was calling for me (I sleep with earplugs).
“MOOOMMMYYY. . .I need you! My tummy hurts!”
Noah is many things, including a master manipulator when he doesn’t want to go to bed. And I am weak in the middle of the night. Half of the time, it’s easier to give in so everyone can go back to bed. Not knowing if Noah actually had a stomachache or if he had had a bad dream, I told him he could sleep in our bed. That usually does the trick. And since Noah squirms when he sleeps I offered to sleep in Noah’s room. Noah is happy that he can sleep in our room and I get a bed to myself. It’s a win-win for everyone.
About 45 minutes later Noah comes into his room, wakes me up by whining that his stomach hurts. Next thing I know, he’s getting sick all over the bathroom. And we didn’t quite make the bowl.
Have I mentioned that Dan is still sleeping?
I calmed Noah down and then I woke up Dan. Noah is 50% his kid, which means my problem is half of his problem. And let’s face it. . .at this point I wasn’t completely convinced that Dan was actually sleeping. He’s known for being a light sleeper and I wasn’t sure how he magically slept through the drama.
Dan and I cleaned Noah up and then we surveyed the damage. At which point Dan offered to clean up the bathroom IN THE MORNING.
My husband, whom I love, wanted to let a vomit covered bathroom ferment all night so he could go back to bed. In his mind, this represented a wise and thoughtful idea. He was being considerate of his wife and her nocturnal needs (apparently, we have different definitions of wise, thoughtful, and considerate).
I told Dan I would clean up the mess. He looked at me and said “okay.” Faster than you can say “goodnight,” he had tucked himself in bed with Noah. With a blue bowl separating them. I would never wish for any of my kids to get sick. Yet in that moment all I could think to myself was how AWESOME it would be if Noah puked all over Dan while he was sleeping.
Armed with Lysol wipes, paper towel, a plastic bag and a industrial sized can of Lysol spray I cleaned the bathroom and threw the trash away outside (have I mentioned that I am afraid of going outside alone at night). Now I am WIDE-awake. And every time Noah makes a noise I jump and run to the bedroom thinking that he’s going to be sick again.
Thirty minutes later Dan stumbles out of bed and finds me on the computer.
“Honey, how come you’re still awake? You should go to bed.”
Really. He has no idea how lucky he is that I didn’t post any of this on Facebook. Revenge could have been fun. And public.
P.S. Noah is fine. The reality is that he played hard this weekend and he ate more crap that he should have. These things have a way of catching up with little people at 1am.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
I Surrender
5:20am: Woke up.
5:30am: Abbie and Hannah wake up. Earlier than usual, but with this stomach thing they’ve had I figured they were hungry.
5:31am: Abbie downs her bottle like an alcoholic at an open bar. Hannah is more interested in playing than eating. Both girls are happy and in good moods.
5:45am: Girl go back to bed.
5:50 – 7am: I shower and get ready for work. So does Dan. We eventually wake up Noah and get his day going. We also notice a horribly pungent odor emanating from the girls bedroom.
7am: Wake babies. Diapers are nasty, but nothing out of the ordinary (how two cute little girls can produce sucked wicked smells is beyond me).
7:15am: Dan leaves to take Noah to the dentist
7:20am: Both girls start fussing. I give them both bottles. They are happy.
7:25am: Everyone and everything is loaded in the car. Babies are happily chugging bottles while I drive. And I am congratulating myself for getting out the door and mentally going all the things I need to accomplish at work today.
7:30am: Made it to Cactus and Tatum. On the phone with Dan who is lost and can’t find the dentist’s office. And then I hear an odd gurgling sound in the backseat.
7:31am: Pulled the car over. Abbie has puked all over herself and the other brand-spanking-new-overpriced-just-installed-by-the-City-of-Phoenix-Fire-Department car seat. And she’s smiling at me. So not happy.
7:32am: Mopped up the puke as best as possible and turn the car around. Trying to figure out what to do next. Hannah is just taking this all in like it's no big deal. Dan calls to ask me (again) where the dentist’s office is. I tell him that I don’t have time for this and perhaps he should have looked at mapquest last night (as I suggested) instead of playing Vampire Wars on Facebook. Bickering ensues.
7:40am: Get home. Put Hannah in jumperoo. . .where she eventually starts to cry. Strip Abbie down and bathe her in the sink (have I mentioned that I am completely dressed for work and I am wearing white? And I have make-up on and I am having a FABULOUS hair day?). Dress and diaper Abbie. Put her on the floor while I frantically try to clean the car seat.
7:55am: Dan calls to tell me they found the dentist and wants positive reinforcement. Really? So not going to happen. Finish dousing the interior of my car and all surfaces with Lysol.
7:58am: Load everyone into the car. Again.
8:15am: Abbie passes out. Get to the JCC without anyone vomiting. Small victory.
8:20am: Drop Hannah off at her class. Debate whether or not to leave Abbie. I can either take the day off and keep her home, or send her to school and risk her vomiting again. In which case I will have to leave work early and be forced to keep her home tomorrow.
8:30am: Start heading back to the car with Abbie. Who seems happy as can be about hanging out at home with me. Run into Dan in the JCC lobby.
8:35am: I announce in the middle of the JCC lobby to all that can hear that I give up. I quit. I am throwing the towel and going home.
All this drama and it wasn’t even 9am.
Since I’ve been home I’ve played with Abbie, cleaned the kitchen, cleaned the car seat, gone through my work email, worked on the laundry, run the dishwasher and checked Facebook. Mind you, when Dan was home on Monday with Hannah he claimed he didn’t have time to change the toilet paper roll in the bathroom because he was “too busy taking care of the baby.”
I want a vacation. Me, a book, and a beach. And no kids.
5:30am: Abbie and Hannah wake up. Earlier than usual, but with this stomach thing they’ve had I figured they were hungry.
5:31am: Abbie downs her bottle like an alcoholic at an open bar. Hannah is more interested in playing than eating. Both girls are happy and in good moods.
5:45am: Girl go back to bed.
5:50 – 7am: I shower and get ready for work. So does Dan. We eventually wake up Noah and get his day going. We also notice a horribly pungent odor emanating from the girls bedroom.
7am: Wake babies. Diapers are nasty, but nothing out of the ordinary (how two cute little girls can produce sucked wicked smells is beyond me).
7:15am: Dan leaves to take Noah to the dentist
7:20am: Both girls start fussing. I give them both bottles. They are happy.
7:25am: Everyone and everything is loaded in the car. Babies are happily chugging bottles while I drive. And I am congratulating myself for getting out the door and mentally going all the things I need to accomplish at work today.
7:30am: Made it to Cactus and Tatum. On the phone with Dan who is lost and can’t find the dentist’s office. And then I hear an odd gurgling sound in the backseat.
7:31am: Pulled the car over. Abbie has puked all over herself and the other brand-spanking-new-overpriced-just-installed-by-the-City-of-Phoenix-Fire-Department car seat. And she’s smiling at me. So not happy.
7:32am: Mopped up the puke as best as possible and turn the car around. Trying to figure out what to do next. Hannah is just taking this all in like it's no big deal. Dan calls to ask me (again) where the dentist’s office is. I tell him that I don’t have time for this and perhaps he should have looked at mapquest last night (as I suggested) instead of playing Vampire Wars on Facebook. Bickering ensues.
7:40am: Get home. Put Hannah in jumperoo. . .where she eventually starts to cry. Strip Abbie down and bathe her in the sink (have I mentioned that I am completely dressed for work and I am wearing white? And I have make-up on and I am having a FABULOUS hair day?). Dress and diaper Abbie. Put her on the floor while I frantically try to clean the car seat.
7:55am: Dan calls to tell me they found the dentist and wants positive reinforcement. Really? So not going to happen. Finish dousing the interior of my car and all surfaces with Lysol.
7:58am: Load everyone into the car. Again.
8:15am: Abbie passes out. Get to the JCC without anyone vomiting. Small victory.
8:20am: Drop Hannah off at her class. Debate whether or not to leave Abbie. I can either take the day off and keep her home, or send her to school and risk her vomiting again. In which case I will have to leave work early and be forced to keep her home tomorrow.
8:30am: Start heading back to the car with Abbie. Who seems happy as can be about hanging out at home with me. Run into Dan in the JCC lobby.
8:35am: I announce in the middle of the JCC lobby to all that can hear that I give up. I quit. I am throwing the towel and going home.
All this drama and it wasn’t even 9am.
Since I’ve been home I’ve played with Abbie, cleaned the kitchen, cleaned the car seat, gone through my work email, worked on the laundry, run the dishwasher and checked Facebook. Mind you, when Dan was home on Monday with Hannah he claimed he didn’t have time to change the toilet paper roll in the bathroom because he was “too busy taking care of the baby.”
I want a vacation. Me, a book, and a beach. And no kids.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
My Hatred of All Things Mac n' Cheese Continues
On Monday Hannah developed a stomach bug. She had some nasty diapers that morning and was kind of fussy. Dan agreed to take her to school and was going to stop at the drugstore on the way and pick up some special formula for her stomach.
They never made it out the door. Hannah vomited all over Dan. And I suppose I am a terrible wife because there was a small part of me that quietly thought "better Dan than me."
Karma sure is a bitch, isn't it?
Today seemed better. All three kids went to camp and all seemed happy. About 10:30 I got a text from Dan. He wanted me to thank Hannah for giving him whatever it was she had yesterday. The gift that keeps on giving. And because he didn’t feel well, it threw off the entire afternoon schedule, which now had to be revised.
At 4pm I left work, went home, changed my clothes, grabbed bottles, and the diaper bag since I was now taking the twins to Noah’s swim lesson at the park. My beloved friend Jamie (who also doubles as the infant room teacher) selflessly and gracious agreed to meet me at the park and help with the girls. Should have been a piece of cake.
I got to the preschool and went to get the twins first. Abbie was all smiles and happy as a clam (despite having tackled another little boy in her class and making him cry because she wanted his bottle. My dad says this is the Israeli in her). She giggled and was her usual sweet self as I put her in the stroller.
Another teacher mentioned that she couldn’t believe Abbie didn’t get sick too. Ten seconds later she projectile vomited mac n’ cheese. And every knows how much I just LOVE mac n’ cheese!
We cleaned her up as best as possible, got Noah, loaded everyone in the car and sped off to swim class. Which I was late for (again). I pulled into the park and dropped Noah off with Jamie so I could park the car. Just as I was pulling into a spot I heard gurgling from the back. . . it was Abbie. This time she opted to barf all over her brand-spanking-new-overpriced-just-installed-by-the-City-of-Phoenix-Fire-Department car seat. Yeah, there were some four letter words coming out of my mouth.
All I have to say is THANK GOD for Jamie.
The pool was a zoo and she agreed to stay with Noah and bring him back home. I took both girls home in a car that now reeks of regurgitated mac n’ cheese and whatever else Abbie (my human trash compactor of a daughter) shoved in her mouth. Got her inside, cleaned her up, and she was like a ray of sunshine again. Jamie brought Noah home and together we watched Abbie lunge for Noah’s dinner and fight with Hannah over a bottle of formula.
I think she’ll live. And my car now smells like a spring meadow thanks to the half-bottle of Lysol I doused on every surface. I will kill this goddamn stomach bug if it’s the last thing I do.''
What I would do for a margarita right now. I don’t think there is enough alcohol in the State of Arizona right now to make this week better.
They never made it out the door. Hannah vomited all over Dan. And I suppose I am a terrible wife because there was a small part of me that quietly thought "better Dan than me."
Karma sure is a bitch, isn't it?
Today seemed better. All three kids went to camp and all seemed happy. About 10:30 I got a text from Dan. He wanted me to thank Hannah for giving him whatever it was she had yesterday. The gift that keeps on giving. And because he didn’t feel well, it threw off the entire afternoon schedule, which now had to be revised.
At 4pm I left work, went home, changed my clothes, grabbed bottles, and the diaper bag since I was now taking the twins to Noah’s swim lesson at the park. My beloved friend Jamie (who also doubles as the infant room teacher) selflessly and gracious agreed to meet me at the park and help with the girls. Should have been a piece of cake.
I got to the preschool and went to get the twins first. Abbie was all smiles and happy as a clam (despite having tackled another little boy in her class and making him cry because she wanted his bottle. My dad says this is the Israeli in her). She giggled and was her usual sweet self as I put her in the stroller.
Another teacher mentioned that she couldn’t believe Abbie didn’t get sick too. Ten seconds later she projectile vomited mac n’ cheese. And every knows how much I just LOVE mac n’ cheese!
We cleaned her up as best as possible, got Noah, loaded everyone in the car and sped off to swim class. Which I was late for (again). I pulled into the park and dropped Noah off with Jamie so I could park the car. Just as I was pulling into a spot I heard gurgling from the back. . . it was Abbie. This time she opted to barf all over her brand-spanking-new-overpriced-just-installed-by-the-City-of-Phoenix-Fire-Department car seat. Yeah, there were some four letter words coming out of my mouth.
All I have to say is THANK GOD for Jamie.
The pool was a zoo and she agreed to stay with Noah and bring him back home. I took both girls home in a car that now reeks of regurgitated mac n’ cheese and whatever else Abbie (my human trash compactor of a daughter) shoved in her mouth. Got her inside, cleaned her up, and she was like a ray of sunshine again. Jamie brought Noah home and together we watched Abbie lunge for Noah’s dinner and fight with Hannah over a bottle of formula.
I think she’ll live. And my car now smells like a spring meadow thanks to the half-bottle of Lysol I doused on every surface. I will kill this goddamn stomach bug if it’s the last thing I do.''
What I would do for a margarita right now. I don’t think there is enough alcohol in the State of Arizona right now to make this week better.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
