The next wave....

I don't know how I ended up on some of these manly blogs, but I have to tell you- I am afraid.

I won't put their sites on my blog. I could not subject anyone that may read this to their sensibilities.

Having spent a few good years with a few good men in the Marine Corps and a lot of years with the fire department, I am not unfamiliar with the frat boy mentality. I always believed, affectionately, that underneath all the bluster lies a decent human being.

The blogs that I've been reading tout the counter to the metrosexual of the 90's and frankly, WTF? Did getting in touch with their feminine side, so freak these boys out that there is a need to lash out with all this gratuitous misogyny? Did being PC really bring out all this nastiness?

I am all for letting boys be boys, but why does it mean they have to be so, well, mean? When did being tough become synonymous with being an asshole?

This supposed fratire makes me sad for my sons.

Misery loves company

I've been reading the mommy blogs and chick literature. At first, they were really satisfying distractions. I loved reading about the lives and loves of other people and finding solace in the fact that most moms are feeling the same anxieties about parenting that I was.

Well, it's not enough. It just doesn't do the trick anymore. It doesn't matter that my friends and total strangers are having the same issues with their young toddlers. It just downright sucks that I don't have the patience the deal with the daily grind or lack the wherewithal to consider myself blessed. I feel cursed that my children love me so much that they have this constant need to engage me. "Mommy play with me. Mommy I need more milk, mommy help me get dressed, mommy I want a snack, mommy I want to watch a movie, mommy I want to go to the park." Or better yet, "where are you going mommy? I want to come with you!! And, seriously, it doesn't matter that it's normal and that every mom is experiencing the same things in varying degrees.

You'd think I'd be grateful that first of all, I have 3 healthy, beautiful kids, and that second, they love and need me. What's wrong with me? I'm exhausted from the constand demand on my time. How lame is that? Like, I've got so many better things I could be doing. You know, sorting the laundry or cleaning up the garage. Geez....

It's Christmas time.....now be happy, d**mit!

I had had enough! The kids were behaving spoiled, ungrateful children, my mother-in-law was pouting like a 4 year old and I was exhausted from all the preparations! I am so going to cancel next Christmas.

Then Christmas morning arrives....My dear hubby is still at work at the firehouse, so I have to somehow keep the kids from opening the presents that Santa brought until he gets home.

The boys come in my room first. They don't seem to realize that Santa has come. I hear my daughter's footsteps lead to the living room. There is a pause. I hear her running down the hallway. She bursts in the room telling her sweet story of discovery. I wish I had a camera.

What brings me to tears is my oldest son's reaction to the stocking stash. We had decided that the kids could empty their stockings in the hopes that it will keep them busy until their dad comes home. So, I'm busy in the living room with something and I sent the older kids to get their stockings. My daughter starts calling out her loot and squealing with her excitement at each discovery. My oldest son is strangely silent. I glance into the dining room and see him studying something he's taken from his lot. Turning it this way and that....then he comes running to me with a big smile of excitement and exclaims, "look, Santa gave me underwear!" (He had grabbed my husband's by mistake. And, yes, that's what I put in their dad's stocking)

My daughter gave the appropriate oohing noises with a slightly confused look on her face.

In that moment, I felt the Christmas joy. My son is not some greedy, ungrateful, spoiled child. My daughter is not so self-absorbed or mean spirited. I love my children.

Still can't stand the mother-in-law, but that's really ok.

I'm seeing red....

All these sayings, like, "I can feel my blood boiling", or "blowing my stack", are running through my head right now. The one, "having kids keeps you young"....really??

I feel like I've lost years of my life these last couple of days. My oldest son is severely doing a jig on my last available nerve. He's taken to kicking or hitting when he is being "guided" to do the right things or to stay safe. I am ready to drop kick him myself, but seeing as how I've learned to control my impulses, it hasn't happened...yet.

I am not equipped to deal with my 4- 1/2 year old throwing tantrums. I know I should be looking at the underlying cause, but I'm so consumed with not throwing a tantrum myself, that I haven't got an ounce of energy left. My other 2 kids stand by and kind of look lost as they wait for the storm to blow over.

I hate this "phase" and hope it will pass before it really damages our relationship. I love my son, but I can't stand this behavior.

One scoop of vanilla please.....

I've been reading some of my friends blogs and I've realized how plain Jane my blog is looking. It's very passive on my part. It's my way of being non-commital. Seriously, I'm just creatively challenged.

I haven't been posting lately, and I don't know if anyone really notices. I haven't put my blog out there and I, certainly, haven't told that many people that I have one. It feels really strange. I know I'm just over analyzing the whole thing, which is typical of me. It keeps me from actually having to deal with any real issues.

These days my real issue is my parenting skills, or lack thereof. It's sad really. I have three fabulous kids, but I'm not being the parent they deserve. I don't have any patience. I lack the knowledge on how to deal with their delicate psyches. I want my children to be successful human beings, but some days....ok, too many days, I am as selfish as I feared I would be. I know it's normal to feel this way. Parenting can get overwhelming. It's a thankless job, blah, blah, blah...They deserve better, but they are stuck with me...

So, that's why I've spared the airwaves. I can't think about much else right now. As hard as I try to be more interesting all I can think to write about are my kids.

I have been dreaming of bikini bootcamp. Since the knee surgery, I've put on quite a few lbs. I'd love to go to some far off beach where all I have to do is take care of myself. I'd miss the alcohol, but it would be worth it. I just can't imagine leaving my babies for a week. A girl can dream......

Playdoh...love it or hate it

It's raining out and my kids are getting a little antsy. I have some, (seriously, extreme) difficulty trying to find an indoor activity that they can all enjoy with minimal disputes.

Playdoh is my savior. There is something for each skill and attention span level and I get some relative peace for anywhere from 20 to 45 minutes. There is nothing like it. They are cheerfully sharing the tools and different colors. The older children are showing the younger child how things work. I get all weepy to see them so harmoniously playing.

I thank the makers of such a fun and versatile activity. My daughter is expressing her inner jewel maker and my older son is creating some pretty interesting monsters. My little guy is even fine tuning those fine motor skills by making some teeth for his animal. What more can you ask for?

Then, it's clean up time. I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, a neat freak. However, it offends my sense of order to have to deal with separating the colors. I can't seem to explain to my offspring that when they have completed their project they should pull apart the different colors instead of mashing it all together.

My sweet daughter asks, "Can you open this color for me?" I briefly pause and glance at the 6 other colors already blending themselves on the table. I debate whether to tell her she has enough colors or just surrender to it, since there's no way in hell I'll be able to minimize my aggravation with one less color to separate.....I really love it when they ask me why the colors are all mixed up and complain they can't use it this way. Try as I might, they haven't made the connection.

I can't wait until they are able to clean this up themselves.......

What was my point?

Oh yeah, blogs are a bit strange. I view them as a public journal. My thoughts that I want to share with strangers. Well, I panic when I know someone is reading my blog. Like they're reading my diary. Silly, I know.

Moving on. The topic of 'failures' is what got me on this particular tangent and I got distracted.

So, where was I? I recited the laundry list of ways that I lost my patience with our kids to my husband this evening during our evening phone call. I know he's at work and can't really process any of my angst, so it's more venting then anything else. He says to me "you're not a bad mom". How does he do that? How does he know what I need to hear?

I know I am not a bad mom, I just wish I was a great one.

My main failure these days is in my relationship with women. Ever since becoming a mom, I've had this need to connect with more women. I am not doing so well. I have a hard time finding women that I can relate to or the chemistry is just wrong. I don't know what the hell it is.

That's not the real failure. I have a really great friend. She's been my rock. I love her like the sister I wish I had. When I'm feeling lost or afraid, I want to talk to her. I know she'll be there for me. I realized today that I don't offer her the same solace. She's going through some tough times. I'm not who she leans on. I wish I was the kind of friend to her that she is to me. I know that's not realistic considering she's a freaking amazing human being. I like setting my sights high. She trusts me with her secrets, but I wish I could be the kind of person she would seek out if she needed a friend.

So, I realize that I am not this person for anyone. What does that say about me?

I worry about this when I think about my kids. Will they come to me when they need someone to talk to? How do I become this kind of person?