Confessions of a Struggling Mama

OK. Let's get this straight now. This is a "no judging" zone. If you're easily given to finger pointing or assumptions, please click on that little X in the top corner of your screen and go back to watching TV.

For the others, here's how it works. I have been completely side-swiped by the last few weeks. Every living thing in this house has at some point plotted to add at least 15 new gray hairs to my head. The drama at school has done absolutely nothing to improve the situation, either. Here are a few of the highlights.

Potty Training 101 - I'm not qualified to teach this. I think I need a remedial course.

When she finally agrees to "go," we first have to find the potty, empty all of the "treasures" out of it that she's stashed there, and then she prefers to do business in the living room with the TV on. Out of the hundreds of parenting books that I've seen, I've yet to run across one that lists any of these issues with potty training. Maybe I'll try the old commando trick during Christmas break. Who knows. I've had lots of people make comments like, "Don't worry about it. I've never seen a kid go off to school still in diapers." Um, well. I can very vividly remember a kindergarten teacher at our school calling administration when they discovered one of their little darlings was wearing a diaper! I really don't want that child to be Annie!

Then, there's the cat.

This once docile animal has turned into a smaller version of Lucifer. She hides in nooks and crannies and then jumps out like some rabid attack kangaroo. The next time she leaps off the top of the refrigerator toward me, she might end up on a one way shuttle to the local Chinese restaurant. Any one want kitty-kitty for dinner?

And, something as simple as plugging my phone in turns dramatic with Annie on the loose!

I ask her a hundred times if she'd seen the cord for my phone. Each time, she said, "I don't know where it is!" Almost two days later, I found it in her room. When I held it up and asked her about it, she said laughingly, "Oh, there's my jump rope!" Nooooooo! I just want to plug my phone in so I can call 9-1-1 when the kids try to tie me up or lock me in the closet with the cat!

And then, there's this monster.

OK. Yeah, she still has the paci. Wanna make something of it? This is the most peacefully she's slept in several nights. She has been traumatized by the thought of Santa coming down the chimney! She keeps waking up screaming, "He's coming in! He's coming in!" Yeah. That goes over real good with me at 3:00 a.m. Last night, I don't know how I managed to stumble across the hall and into her room without running into the wall! The first time she did this, I was terrified of what (or who) I would find when I opened her door. I admit to putting the baseball bat under my bed after that night. Looking back, yeah, that's pretty funny to think about me going after some intruder with a baseball bat when I can't hit the broad side of a barn with anything! But, I figured it was better than stashing a knife under there! Can you imagine the damage Annie could do if she made a discovery like that? Anyway, Annie is simply doing me in these days. Tonight, we pretended to "lock" the chimney shut and I promised that Santa would have to ring the door bell before coming in. Once again, looking back, that was sort of stupid. How is Santa going to deliver the toys undetected if he has to ring the door bell? D-oh!

Beyond the Santa melt downs, twice in the last week, she has gone into hysterics in the middle of a store because she "smelled" daddy. In WalMart, I understood her fit. Someone did walk past us that was wearing cologne or aftershave or something smelly that smelled like Eric. However, I don't have a clue what triggered her, "I smell daddy," melt down in the middle of the post office. Ugh. It's nearly impossible to convince a two year old that they are wrong - especially a Randolph two year old. So, I'm purposely avoiding taking Annie into any stores for the next few days, weeks, years... who knows.

Then, there's Christmas. The issues surrounding this go so much deeper than I'm capable of putting into words right now.

Anyone remember these ornaments? Our wedding party signed these and they've hung on the tree every year since then. I've also added one ornament each year with a sentiment about something special that happened that year. What the heck do I do with these suckers? I told a friend that I'd thought about using them as clay pigeons and trying to skeet shoot with them. I was quickly reminded of my crappy aim and told to put that idea away. I mentioned several other suggestions and a friend with Solomon-like wisdom way beyond my years told me just to pack them away that one day I would be able to look back on them without losing my lunch (and dinner). And these ornaments are just the tip of the iceberg. There are tons of other things that just evoke memories that I'd prefer to lose. If I knew that a lobotomy would cancel out some of the haunting memories, I'll admit that I might consider it since insurance won't pay for a memory zapper like they have in Men in Black.

I really am trying so hard to stay positive and keep the kids busy. Annie doesn't remember too much about Christmases past and Grant doesn't say anything but Dasha... dear Dasha. She seems to say the absolute worst thing possible when I'm at the absolute worst place to receive it. She doesn't mean to do this but she's just confused and asks questions when she finally pieces her thoughts together. More than once, her recollections about the past have been the last straw for me. "Remember when we..., Daddy used to..., I wonder what..." To her, they are innocent questions, to me (and I think to Grant), they are like SCUD missiles aimed directly at our weakest points.

Anyway, in an attempt to keep things cheery, I took the girls to the Christmas parade this weekend. Grant was camping for the weekend with the scouts so it was just us girls. Now, I hadn't been to the parade in years and really underestimated how many people would be there. I did take Annie's stroller this time and two folding chairs but I didn't really think about helping Dashing navigate the uneven path for quite a distance from where we had to park while balancing two folding chairs and pushing a stroller. I don't think I've ever prayed so hard as I did Saturday night about keeping the tears from spilling out. It wasn't Dasha's fault that we had to walk a lot further than I'd anticipated and it wasn't Annie's fault that her cinder block butt weights the stroller down so much that it's hard to push nowadays. We finally managed to get into position and watched the parade, though.

The stroller contained her long enough to get from the van to the street.

Dasha was just as excited as Annie but was exhausted from the walk.

Annie took her jingle bells and rang them for the runners as they went past.

She kept leaning out into the street to tell us what was coming next.

This was the highlight of the night for her. She LOVES marching bands and actually ducked under the rope boundary to "tap it out" (translates into dance) with the band.

We all managed to have a good time and walked away with some new fun memories. When we got home, we finished putting some of the non-emotional ornaments on the tree and had peppermint sticks. Once again, someone needs to add a chapter to a parenting book entitled, "How to Decorate a Christmas Tree with Toddlers in the House." This chapter should detail the mathematical equation used to determine at what height you can safely begin hanging ornaments so that little hands won't snatch them. Last year, we told Annie to use a "one finger gentle touch" and she did fine. This year, um, let's just say that last year's tactic is a joke this year. I started placing the breakable ornaments about three feet up the tree only to turn around and see Annie dragging her stool over to the tree so she could reach them. When I derailed her fun, she started putting markers, pencils, and blocks into the lower branches of the tree. And, those items are still there. I figure if she sticks with moving those around, maybe she'll leave the other ornaments alone. Maybe.

So, I don't even have time to begin addressing the big kids' attempts at turning my hair gray over the last few weeks. Believe me, they've both taken their best shots at me more than once! I'll save that insanity for another post. From Dasha being completely boy crazy to Grant deciding that school isn't really to be taken seriously, they are both on the brink of major consequences. Like I said, I don't have the time or energy to get into that tonight. The bottom line is that I'm exhausted physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I'm trying to pull it all together so Christmas doesn't turn out to be a memory to be forgotten but dang... Between helping Santa make Craigslist purchases and chasing those across the city to acting as one of the elves and trying to assemble "stuff," I'm already weary. (Here's another fact for the parenting book - Do not try to assemble a bike without having the proper tools or at midnight. And, do not assume that a Craigslist purchase will provide you with all of the correct screws and bolts to reassemble the purchase so think twice about the Black Friday price that comes with all of the correct pieces)! These are things that no one warns you about until it's too late.

Anyway, tonight, I'm headed for bed to collapse. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. Teachers should receive combat pay for the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Good night, all.

The LORD says, "I will give you back what you lost to the swarming locusts, the hopping locusts, the stripping locusts, and the cutting locusts. It was I who sent this great destroying army against you. Joel 2:25 ~This has been major food for thought for me this week.