Secret Mommyhood Friendship Confession

This week’s confession is something I have been thinking about A LOT this week, which means poor Cortney has had to listen to it a LOT this week.

I don’t understand, therefore I am not good at, female friendships.

At least not the ones that require me to be involved in them on a daily basis.

That sounds bad.

Here is my deal:  I suck at being a way involved friend in REAL life.

My best friend lives in Chicago.  Since high school, we have never lived close enough to hang out regularly.  We send each other random, funny cards.  We text each other.  We email.  We facebook.  We tweet.  But we don’t see each other a ton.

And our friendship is awesome.  It was awesome in high school too, but it’s still like that.

I really do care and love ALL my friends a TON.  But my level of involvement as far as planning things and hanging out?  Totally sucks.  I’m not good at it.

Also?  I don’t like to “mix” my friend groups.  I like my high school friends separate from my college friends separate from my work friends, etc.  Yes, that is all OCD of me, but when they mix, dynamics change and I get anxiety.

Plus?  I tend to be honest.  I assume when you ask me my thoughts on someone, you want the real answer.  I don’t try to be cruel, but if you ask me about something bothersome, I’ll tell you.

I mean, I assume no one has PERFECT friends, right?  We all have something that bugs us about each of our friends, right?  There are the friends who suck at returning emails.  There are those who seem to be “one-uppers” and always have something worse happening than you do.  There are those who seem to lack any sort of common sense.

But we still love them because they are our friends.

(by the way, I am sure one of the main irks my friends find with me is that I am never available except online, but that is a guess).

Let me give you an example.  Cort and I have a male friend who is pretty cheap.  He likes to hold onto his money.  He knows this; we can say it and he doesn’t get mad.  BUT if I had a female friend who was cheap?  And she found out I thought she was cheap?  She would get mad.  Even though SHE IS CHEAP. But the thing is?  I would love her despite her cheapness.

sigh…

Anyway, what I am trying to say is, I love my friends fiercely…really.  But sometimes, I am afraid they get all mad and drama-ish because of something I say or plans I can’t make.  And I don’t get that.

Cortney and his friend Mat have often referred to me as Elaine from Seinfeld.  There is an episode where she is crabbing about not having many female friends–that she just doesn’t “get” them.  They respond that she is a “man’s woman”–that she just does better being friends with men because there aren’t any hidden codes or drama.

Yes.  This is me.

But I do treasure the female friends I have.  They are so much more supportive–verbally–than guys are.  They can sense my hurt and they know what to say.  They feel my joys and say more than, “cool”.

But I just suck at understanding those women and what they want from me.

I like to laugh.  I like to talk about serious stuff.  I like to know I can trust someone.

I don’t like to try to figure out what “someone means by that”.  I am not good with passive aggressive statements and code.

So many women talk about others behind their backs like they don’t want the subject to know…why?  When I say something about someone, it’s something I would tell them to their face if they asked.

But who asks, “what do I do that is annoying to you?”  because we don’t want to know!

I don’t want to hear that I suck as someone who will show up to planned events.  I know this.  I would hope my friends know this about me and love me anyway.

I guess what this whole ramble is about is that I just don’t get it. I grew up with brothers.  If they thought I was being a turd?  They told me.  And I told them if they were being lame. I am this way with everyone in my life.

If you are ever mad at me?  You should probably just tell me…because I have no clue. If I sense crabby or passive-aggressive anger from you?  I will just let it be because I don’t have the time or energy to “figure out” what I did to you.  JUST TELL ME.

And I hope you love me anyway…even for my faults.  Because I love you despite your faults.

Sometimes? My Kid is a Jerk

Tonight sucked.

Well it didn’t.  It was actually pretty great.  In fact, I was about to throw out a celebratory tweet or facebook update about how great of a mom I was tonight and how I rocked the socks of the home alone with Eddie while Cort had class deal.  Good thing I didn’t.  I would have been eating my words.

Cort left and we played for about 30 minutes and rocked out to some Little Einsteins.

I made dinner. We had mac n cheese and fruit salad.  Eddie scarfed down his pineapple and guava, but left the red papaya sit on his plate.  no biggie…he had a second helping of my awesome homemade Kraft mac n cheese.

Then we played some more until bath time…which is always a good time.

He helped me wash his hair (a new thing) by scrubbing with me and then pouring water over his head–rinsing all the pineapple juice and banana puree that he had managed to massage in at dinner.

After a quick dry off–he ran amok in the nude for a bit while playing a tambourine.

He even LET me put his diaper and jammies on him.

And in an unusual change of events, he even wanted to read books and snuggle through all of Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy (yes, we watch this before bed…it’s family friendly programing…and it’s educational.  Plus Eddie loves the music and clapping with the studio audience).

So the final credits rolled on Jeopardy, and I said, as usual, “Say goodnight to Louis.”

and he waved to the cat (as usual).

We rocked and sang and cuddled.

I put him in bed.

Then?  It’s like someone threw citric acid on the whole night.

We have had many, many, MANY great nights of me putting him to bed.

Tonight?  Was not one of them.

He cried.  Hard.

I rocked him.  Put him back to bed.

He cried.  HARDER.

I went in his room.  No pipey.  just tears and the shakey thing that happens when they can’t catch their breath from crying.

So I went and found the back-up pipey since his was no where to be found.

He was sort of warm, so I gave him some tylenol, rocked him, and put him back down.

Then there were cries like someone was eating his face.  They were awful.

I went in.  He stopped crying.  Just pointed.

No pipey.  I couldn’t find it anywhere.  He was all awake and chatty and so, in frustration, I set him out of the bed so I could look.

Neither pipey was ANYWHERE.

Dude.  And he just laughed and ran out of the room.

Damnit.

He was doing this crap on purpose.

He was being a JERK!

My kid was exhibiting jerk-like behavior!

I lost my…well…shit.  I lost my shit.

I didn’t want to yell at him, so I cried.  And cursed under my breath.

I sat that way for a few minutes while he went around chirping and playing with toys.

Then I marched into his room and tore that nursery from end to end until I found one of the pipeys.

I gave it to him, marched him back to his room, rocked him, and put him down.

It took TWO HOURS, loads of tears, and a number of swear words, but my kid is sleeping.

Wait…maybe I spoke too soon….

Secret Mommyhood Confession

Ok…it’s not Saturday, but I am giving you my confession anyway…

This is not how I expected life as a family to be.

I know, lame confession, right?  I mean…who DOES expect what they get (ok, some of you probably have exactly what you thought was coming. I am not that prophetic).

Anyway…what is going on around me?  Not what I pictured.

Not in a whiney way…but not in a totally super way either.

It’s just…different.

Growing up, I had a mom who was supermom.  She won’t admit that, but now that I am a mom?  I know she was.

As a kid, I figured that was what being a mom would be.

She stayed home for the first part of our childhood.  She was (um…IS) an excellent cook–a homemade meal was on the table 5 days a week.

Our house was ALWAYS clean.  I don’t ever remember toy messes lasting long.  When we were done with one thing, I got picked up and put away.  At the time we were done.  Not minutes before bed.  And certainly NEVER EVER left out over night.

She did a full house clean every Saturday.  FULL HOUSE CLEAN.  dusting, vacuuming, floor scrubbing (on hands and knees), bathroom cleaning, sheet changes on every bed every other Saturday, and windows in nice weather.

She did laundry EVERY DAY.

Then she went back to school and back to work.

And nothing changed at home.  At least to me?  As a kid?  Nothing changed.

As I got older, I knew I wanted to be a mom, but I knew I would be a working mom.

I assumed my husband would also be working.

But somehow?  I figured the house would get cleaned and picked up and a good family meal would be served each night.

I did not expect…

My kid to see that I had no idea what I was doing…and distrust me for it.

To be so tired after work that I would rather eat McDonald’s that put for the effort to put a meal on the table.

My husband to be laid off from work…and then be out of work for over a year (thanks, stupid economy).

My husband to be back in school.

To be the main bread winner for the family.

To be battling depression and anxiety.

To have such a cute, lovable little boy that sometimes it makes me cry.

To be so damn unsure of myself in every. single. area of my life.

This:

the destruction that is our living room

the danger zone that is my kitchen floor

The mess that is my island

Every. Single. Surface has been hit by hurricane Ed

...Or Hurricane Life

I didn’t expect this either:

the working mom Suzy Homemaker

after a long day of work, I throw on my apron (thanks, Tonya!!) and mix up some corn muffins to go with the meal that has been plupping away in the crock pot.

I didn’t expect to rely on my husband so much to get household chores done and to get the groceries and to be the primary caretaker.

This was not what I imagined.

But in most ways?  I wouldn’t change it either.

This is how we are.  It’s how we are getting through life.

And if that means Cort is changing poopy pantses and I am making corn muffins in a skirt and boots?

Well, then that is how it is for Sluiter Nation right now.

Tune in Tuesday for this week’s Top Ten Tuesday:  The Top Ten favorite blog posts…of my own!  I encourage you to participate and link up…it is like giving a little tour of your blog to people..and I am excited to read what your favorite posts are of your own.

Also?  There is a SWEET GIVEAWAY going on at my book blog, Katie’s Bookcase!  It’s a book to help keep the little ones busy…which is a MUST HAVE this time of year!  Please join in!

Kate vs. Wal-Mart

I know Kimberly is not doing Secret Mommyhood Confessions today since it’s a holiday and all…but I have one for you.

I hate Wal-Mart.

Now, I know some of you are running to your Google readers and hitting unsubscribe as fast as you can because I just insulted the temple of all frugal mommies…but hear me out.

I don’t necessarily hate YOUR Wal-Mart…just every Wal-Mart I have ever been in–which is pretty limited.

In fact, up until today, I don’t think I had been in a Wal-Mart in over three years.

I know.

Go ahead.  Soak that in.

So what brought me there today?

Christmas returns.

Sigh.

Yes, Wal-Mart AND returns.  I know.  What was I thinking?

I eased myself in.  First I had a very pleasant return to Kohls.  Then I pleasantly returned something to Bed, Bath, & Beyond.

Before leaving that parking lot, I said a little prayer for my life, started the car and headed to Wal-Mart.

As soon as I got into the parking lot, I began to curse.

First of all, they have those stupid slanty parking spaces–you know, the ones where you have to drive a certain way to park into.

Those parking places alone do not make me mad.  They have them at Macy’s too and I have never been bothered by them there.

But at Wal-Mart?  People do not know how to operate the parking lot.  Even though it’s been this way forever.

So I am already frustrated because it takes me 5 minutes to get into a parking spot…not because I couldn’t find one…because I had to wait for people to figure out the parking lot.

The car parked, I start toward the entrance.

As soon as I got to the door, I was bombarded by no less than THREE homeless-looking guys asking for donations to several things.  Now, again, I don’t mind giving to charities (in fact I give to Salvation Army when the ring their bells, and we give to others regularly each year), but I do mind strange, large men getting all up in my grill about saving people.  uncool.

Moving along…

I get inside and an old man takes my item, scans it, and sticks a return sticker on it for me.  Ok, whatever.  Not sure why Wal-Mart has this process, but it doesn’t bother me.

I quickly find the Customer Service at the front of the store and let myself think for a second, “huh.  they’ve re-done this Wal-Mart since I have last been here.  Seems cleaner and newer…still smells the same though.  Eh, maybe it won’t be so bad.”

Mistake.  Wrong.  Incorrect.

I stand in line with my helicopter to return.  I am behind an older couple with a cart and one item.  The customer service desk has four ladies behind it–three who appear to actually be doing returns and one who is supervising and helping.

From this distance?  Things are still fine.

The middle customer service lady finishes up, sends someone on her way, and takes the old couple.

I wait patiently as it looks like the customer service lady on the Left will be opening up.

She does.  She begins talking with the supervisor lady about her headache.

I am the only person in line with my lonely toy.

The supervisor suggests that she is hung over.

Seems inappropriate conversation seeing as there are little kids with the lady on the right.

Middle lady finishes with old couple.

I am eagerly waiting to be waved forward.

Middle lady adds to headache conversation (perhaps Left lady should have her blood pressure checked.  What?)

Finally Middle lady sees me.  I smile.  She says, “well?”

Wait…what?

I tell her I want to return my item, please.

She takes it from me, scans it, shoves a return receipt at me and says, “sign this.”  (um…please?), and grabs it away.

While this is taking place, Right customer service lady finishes (all this while?  Headache conversation has been going on.  Along with much talk of booze.), and a larger man in pajama shorts and a Red Wing T-shirt with holes in it approaches her and says, “yeah I called earlier because you people didn’t give me my full refund on my thing.”

Middle lady (who is still not talking to me.  not sure what I did, but at least she is actually still working on my return) says, “oh yea, I totally e-ffed (yes, she said ‘e-ffed’ and not the REAL word) that one up.  It’s right there.”

Still inappropriate.

Then she turns back to me, hands me cash and says, “15.92, bye.”

“Um, thank you.  Happy New Year,” I say back.

She is already talking about how maybe she needs to “get  laid” to get rid of her headache.

Um.

So I start to walk to the toy section to pick Eddie a new toy when I realize, they just gave me cash.  I do not have to shop here!

Yippee!

And with that?  I leave stupid Wal-Mart.

But not before another parking lot struggle.

Oh and? I bought Eddie some Melissa and Doug toys at a local toy store, in case you were wondering.

I guess I won’t be sponsored by Wal-Mart to go to any blogging conferences.

Happy 2011.

Secret Mommy-hood Confession Saturday

Ok so Kimbery over at All Work and no Play Makes Mommy Go Something Something confesses stuff on Saturdays.  It’s not an actual meme, just something she does.

But I thought since I am all out of things to say (actually, I’m not…I just can’t get in the mood to write about any of them right now), that I would participate since I DO have a confession.

And it is this:

I let my kid watch TV all the dang time.

That’s right.  The TV is rarely off in this house.  Ever.

See?  Even from Eddie’s beginning we had that darn TV on constantly.  This area of our house is where Eddie has been pretty much raised.  It’s our living room.  It has a TV.  Hence the boy is in front of the TV a LOT.

There it is.  On again in the background of tummy time last summer.  By 4 months this kid probably knew all the Tigers and their position.  And that they suck.

He even learned to roll himself over on his tummy and fall asleep when we were losing.  Smart boy.  Although I am starting to wonder if not only did I let him watch TV too much, but I had him on the floor too much too.  huh.

Here we are…more recent.  This is probably just a month or so ago.  At least we decided that if the TV was going to be on?  Perhaps we should have kid-appropriate shows on.  For awhile Eddie was watching whatever we had on…and I am guessing Gangland on the History Channel is probably not the most appropriate show for a 15 month old.

This kid loves his TV shows.  In fact, the other night after he went to bed?  I realized there were NO shows on the Tivo for me to watch.  It was FILLED with Eddie’s programming.

The fact that we have Dora on demand constantly is maybe not healthy.

So we have turned off the TV from time to time (it’s off right now and it’s WAY to quiet in the house.  I am all creeped out).

But then this happens…

Yup.  Sesame Street on my laptop.

Sigh.

The boy loves TV.

The boy is quiet when we put the TV on.

The boy signs “more” when his Tivo-ed program ends.

It’s cute.

And did I mention he is quiet?

Oh man…what did I create?

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