The Mommy Haze

If you've ever been pregnant, you may have heard of a little something called "Pregnancy Brain".  Pregnancy Brain is an unexpected and debilitating disorder that causes pregnant women to say and do stupid things that, before being "with child", would have seemed ridiculous and alarming.

This ailment is no laughing matter.  Few diseases can force an otherwise healthy 24 year-old woman to attempt washing a load of laundry by putting dryer sheets in the washing machine and, even worse, detergent in the dryer.  

 

These mothers should have your sympathies. 

I certainly wasn't proud of myself when I pulled the clothing from the dryer, hot and crusted with soap and likely not very clean.  But at the time, I was amid a tumultuous pregnancy with Cael and simply grateful to be capable of ruining my own laundry and not stuck on bed rest.  I was very frustrated by the way I couldn't do math in my head or remember where I had put my keys and purse, but I knew that in a few addition months I'd have a beautiful baby boy, and I'd get my brain back.

Unfortunately, WebMD failed to tell me about a little thing known as "The Mommy Haze".  This condition is a secondary, more severe form of Pregnancy Brain brought on by exhaustion, poor nutrition and Cheerios stuck in one's hair.  Although it can cause anything from addressing a child by the wrong name to wearing your shirts on backward all day, Mommy Haze gone one step further to anoint me, "The Most Absent-Minded Mommy In All The Land".

When winter vacation was over I struggled a bit to get back into the routine, but when I dropped him off at school last Thursday I felt confident that he was prepared for the day.  Then I picked him up and was reminded not once but twice that my son needed snowpants "EVERYDAY", and I felt as though I was one step away from remedial parenting courses.

I wouldn't make the same mistake on Friday.  I crammed the snowpants into a bag with Cael's other winter gear and headed to school, remembering only feet from the school's front door that it was "Fresh Vegetable Friday", and Cael had no fresh vegetable.  He didn't even have a canned vegetable.   

 

Thanks, Mommy Haze.

So when Monday morning rolled around, I resolved to handle the new week with a cool head and a fresh approach.  And that probably would have worked if not for the four children I was watching and the mere 25 minutes I had to get them all fed, dressed and to the car so that my son actually arrived at school before the doors locked.  Unfortunately for Cael, however, the perfect storm brewed and when I reached in his bag to pull out his gloves, I discovered that, while I remembered the snowpants, Cael's hat and gloves were nestled warmly in our coat closet at home.  

 

The hat that made me look like an absent parent.

 

I called Papa, who generously offered to stay with the car while I checked in at the school office so that I could deliver Cael's gear and prevent my neglectfulness from leading to a case of frostbite.  When I retrieved my son later in the morning and the teachers assumed that any number of mismatched and unidentified gloves and boots must belong to us (because I had brazenly forgotten to label our gloves and boots), I knew that my case of Mommy Haze had gone from suspected to confirmed. 

 

Forgetting his backpack on Tuesday was just insulting. 

 

There is one hour left before preschool is over for today, and I am afraid to learn what way the Mommy Haze has clouded my day and my parenting skills.  And while, at this point, I hope I remember to pick him up at all, I will be a little embarrassed if he went "commando" to school again.

 

I'm done beating myself up about it, though.  If anyone interprets my absent-minded omissions as neglect or signs of a parent that has officially checked out, they simply need to look at the smile on Cael's face or the hug he gives me when he runs to my side.

 

And hopefully, they won't look at the crusted detergent on his clothes or Cheerios in his hair.  

 

It's been a long week.

Problem #2

When you're a mom of boys, everything comes down to poop.

"Mom, what is pee?  I mean-- what makes pee?"

"Well, when you drink water or milk or any liquid, your body uses some of that to grow muscles and use as energy so that you can run and play, like when we put gas in the car."

"So you can put milk in the car?"

"No, stay with me here.  Just like gas gives a car energy, you use food and drinks for energy.  But your body doesn't use all of it.  So the the liquid your body doesn't need comes out when you pee."

"Oh.  So what is poop?"

"Well, if pee is the liquid your body didn't need, what do you think poop is?"

"Stinky!"

One can always count on Graham to point out the obvious.

"I don't know, Mom.  Chicken?"

"You're pretty close.  Anything solid."

"What does 'solid' mean?"

"Anything you'd have to chew.  Like pizza, or meat or cookies.  And when you eat stuff that's not good for you, your body uses less of it and you poop even more.  That's one more reason why you should eat good, healthy food."

"So let me get this straight... when you had Graham, you just ate so much yucky stuff that Graham came out?  Like chips and candy?"

"No, Cael!  Your brother was not poop, he was a baby!"

"So you ate a bunch of babies?!"

I think actually I preferred the potty talk.  On to problem number three...

Resolution Update

It's been over a month since I resolved to potty train Graham before Christmas, and it with a great sense of pride and a huge knock on a giant piece of wood that I announce our success.

Much credit goes to Joel, who was the great enforcer when it came to underpants in those moments when I was simply tired of changing wet jeans and simply wanted to throw in the towel and slap a diaper on Graham's bottom.  But with his steadiness, we managed to be out of diapers during the day  within two weeks of our resolution, and officially diaper-free 24 hours a day by December 23rd. 

We did it.

So I should be thrilled, right?  Think of all of the money saved.  Think of the extra room in my trash can each garbage day!

I should be thrilled, but it seems that we have replaced one problem with another.  When Graham needs to use the toilet, which he determines with no accidents, he does his business quickly and gets back to his toys or lunch.  He never, and I mean NEVER, remembers to put his clothes back on. 

Somehow, for Christmas, I turned in an incontinent baby and got a nudist in return.

At first it was cute, but very quickly it became a strange constant in my home.

"Graham, put your underpants on before you play baseball!"
"Graham, don't sit on the table without underpants!"
"Graham, the people at the door don't want to see your pieces... put on your underpants!"

So with my Christmas resolution complete, I am setting a Valentine's Day resolution to tame my little nudist in the next month.  Not just for my own sake, but for the sake of his future teachers, friends and anyone who should drop by unannounced at my home.  This is for you.

Wish us luck!

Ism of the Week

"Are Bampa and Uncle Seth gone?"

"Yep, Graham, they each flew home on an airplane."

"On a helicopter?"

"No, on a much bigger plane.  A jet."

"Why don't they drive?"

"It would take too long.  Flying is much faster."

"Can you draw me an airplane, Mommy?"

"Not right now, Bubba.  We need to get Cael to school, and we're going to be late if we don't hurry."

"Okay, Mommy.  But where's our jet?"

"We're too important for a jet, Graham.  We get a van."

Life Immitating Art

Okay, it's just not funny anymore.

On Monday, when I recalled our Christmas festivities with sarcasm regarding our disaster-prone lives, I mentioned the brief bout of stomach flu that plagued my boys and asked for all of you to envelope us with good thoughts as we approached the New Year.

Was that what did it?  Should I have knocked on wood?  Where did I put the garlic?

As a celebratory dinner for New Year's Day, we purchased crab and lobster (my favorites, and special treats that I normally don't get to have) and cooked them up with garlic butter sauce.  We sat at the table, invested a good 20 minutes in compiling a suitable amount of meat from the shells, and got ready to dig in.

"Oh, this is absolutely perfect," I offered.

That must have been it.  That was the cue for the curse.

Joel cocked his head and shushed us as he listened intently. 

"Do you hear running water?"

He did hear running water, of course.  What none of us had heard was Graham flushing the potty earlier and emerging from the bathroom to inform us that his "pee didn't go down", but instead overflowed the toilet, ran all through the bathroom, out into the hall and into the ventilation system for the house where we could hear water splashing and dripping through all of the vents.

We all left our delicious seafood feast and sprang into action, the men soaking up water with towels and a shop vac while I surveyed the damage downstairs.   I was expecting a drip or two, but what we found was that the water seeped through the floor and was pouring out of the smoke detectors, light fixtures and junctures between sheets of drywall, and was only alleviated when we succumbed to the flood and drilled holes in the ceiling for the water to drain into buckets throughout the basement. 

Within an hour, we had most of the damage under control and fans in place to dry up the remaining water, so we returned to our seats and finished our dinner, our mood a little quieter, a little less enthusiastic. 

I knew logically that the flood was caused by Graham's bathroom antics, but the irony of the holiday catastrophe wasn't lost on me.  It was then that I had a thought-- maybe we're not simply doomed to experience holiday calamities, but perhaps these fiascoes are a result of my constant mention of the topic on this blog. 

Maybe, just maybe, the blog is the answer.

So, with yet another holiday incident in our past, I look forward to Valentine's Day with new enthusiasm.  But just in case, I'd like to mention that I'm really, really terrified of winning the lottery and/or losing 20 pounds by Valentine's Day. 

That'd be just awful.

Class of 2012

Well, it's the beginning of a new year, and there is no better way to look back on the past 365 chaotic days than to dwell on the most memorable, dramatic, painful or amazing moments in typical high school yearbook fashion.  So here are 2012's superlatives, and a walk down memory lane.

Best Hair - After a battle of wills about cutting Cael's overgrown thatch of hair last December, a comment from a waitress about my "sweet little girl" prompted Joel to get his hair cut when I wasn't around.  But only a month later, I was able to watch as Graham's locks were trimmed... in my presence.

Greatest Loss - It is with heavy hearts that we remember the death of our beloved iMac; friend, assistant and master processor.  Although it has been replaced in our office, it can never be replaced in our hearts.

Most Masculine - Cael and Graham sporting marker 'staches.  Just because.

Most Miraculous - Joel's plastic Jesus proved to be more than just a white elephant gift when damaged toys were made whole again shortly before Easter.  Think my husband would stop snoring if I tucked a mangled Jesus in bed with him for a night?

Worst Driver - Although Cael can, at times, say things beyond his years, he is only five years old.  And in our fine country a five year-old cannot vote, drink, and certainly cannot drive.  Cael took issue with the latter when he put our motorhome into neutral and we went careening into the neighbor's driveway in late April.

Most Resillient - Cael, in an unfortunate backyard football/dog chasing incident, was run over by Graham on a rampage with the John Deere Gator.  Although at a serious disadvantage to the big and heavy Gator, Cael emerged unscathed, but a little shaken.

Greatest Achievement - On his very first Daddy/Son Fishing outing (titled somewhat inappropriately because of my presence), Cael caught a fish in a nearby lake.  If asked, Cael might cite "peeing in the lake" as his greatest achievement, but all of us were surprised as he pulled his catch from the water.  Graham nearly tossed my iPhone into the water out of frustration because he hadn't snagged his own fish, but I managed to convince him that he was a goose-chasing expert in his own right... hook, line and sinker...

Most Likely to Succeed - It may not have been his very first day of school, but when Cael walked into his classroom at the official elementary school for the first time, he couldn't contain his excitement and even seemed to walk taller.  I walked with tissues.

Cutest Patient - It's hard to be little.  It's even harder to be the little brother of a boy in school, who brings home all sorts of germs and illnesses for you to catch.  When Graham caught a nasty infection with high fevers and chest congestion, it quickly landed him in the hospital where he worked his charm on the Pediatric nurses. 

Most Delectable - Just in case I didn't have enough to do while preparing for my boys' birthday parties, I decided to torture myself with two highly involved cake projects.  But because I am far from a professional cake decorator, Graham's cake quickly sank without supports.  Cael reaped the benefits of my new knowledge, but my sanity took a beating!

Most Inspired - As a parent, there's nothing worse than seeing your child in pain or not feeling well.  So in an effort to combat the bacterial blues, I crafted this airplane for Cael and Graham from cardboard boxes.  In a related note, this airplane also holds the superlative "Most Quickly Destroyed".

Cheeriest Elves - Cael and Graham's Christmas was made complete by a ride on the Polar Express in December, where they chatted up Santa and nearly bathed in hot chocolate.  Although we didn't crash through the frozen lake, the boys' eyes glowed with excitement as we pulled into the station.

And that's it for 2012!  Here's hoping that 2013 brings just as many memories and nowhere near as many diapers.  Happy New Year, everyone!

Modern Warfare

The first few days post-Christmas are a sleepy, vacation-minded Mommy's dream.  There are so many new toys to play with and family around, so the battles are few and far between. 

The sibling battles, that is.  The military battles have just begun.

"Graham, should we use our new army guys and have a battle?"

"Otay.  I'm this guy!"

"And I'm this guy.  And now, we have a battle."  After thinking, Cael asked, "Mommy, what is a battle?"

"A battle is a big fight between a bunch of people.  Like in a war."

"Oh, okay.  So Graham, my guys are mad at your guys because they don't like your dinosaur."

"But my dinosaur is the best!"

"No, he's not.  He ate one of my guys.  And he's not as cool as my horse!"

"I will cook your horse with my camping stuff.  I have a stone."

"A stove, Graham," I piped in.

"Yeah, a stone."

"Well when you cook my horse on your stove, I'm gonna fly away with your Buzz Lightyear wings."

"No you won't!  Captain America's tank will stop you."

Now, I certainly don't want to thwart their creativity, but during their strategic planning, the boys had forgotten the army men altogether who were now a tempting military target for a certain highly-trained canine, fresh off of medical leave for a chocolate-coin incident.

"Boys, you've forgotten about your army men completely.  Plus, this isn't really what wars are about.  They are about the way rulers run their country, or about trying to take over new land.  Not about dinosaurs and cooked horses."

"Let's shoot Mommy!"

"Yeah!"

"And your dinosaur can eat her arms!"

"Yeah!"

"You'd better not attack me.  If your dinosaur eat my arms, who will cook your dinner?"

"Daddy....?"

Their strategy has nothing on me.