Questionable Choices in Parenting

Laughing at life as a parent so they don't commit me

Lean on Me, Actually Don’t. Get Off Me…

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Having kids has caused me a serious case of momnesia. This kid induced disease often has me searching endlessly for keys, failed attempts of looking for my lost cell phone while I am talking on that lost cell phone, and the dreaded walking into a room and thinking “What the hell did I come in here for?”

While momnesia and its nasty side effects has me walking around like a half wit, I never have to worry that I will lose my kids because one or both are always leaning on me, touching me, or sitting on me…always. Now I love a snugglefest with my babies, probably more than the average Mamma, but dang kids, give the lady some room!

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This morning I was doing the normal multi-tasking: attempting to write a blog, drink coffee, pretend to watch Doc McStuffins and snuggle with two bed-headed kids. But I couldn’t even raise an elbow to click around on the computer because I was trapped between both leaners.

I moved to the floor, they followed me.
I scooted to the left, the scooted along with me.
I scooched to the right, the got even closer.

I can’t escape them!

During a break in the leaning, I ran off  into the kitchen, but the little one followed me. Since this kid could stand, I haven’t cooked a meal without her standing on my feet or swinging between my legs chanting “Mamma, Mamma, Mamma” on repeat. This is enough to make the most patient of women insane, and I will only cook things that can be heated up in the microwave in 30 seconds so that I can be around long enough to see my kids graduate from high school.

I instituted a new rule in this house, a moratorium on leaning on Mommy for one hour a day.  The no leaning policy happens from 1:30-2:30.  This time also coincides with Mimi’s nap mostly because she is irrational and cannot be bargained with. Also, I am a little afraid of her wrath if I told her she has to move. However, the new rule has already failed and I have a mutiny on my hands. See!

Lean on me

The leaning doesn’t stop even when the kids go to bed. As if on cue, I get the kids to sleep and the dog, who has ignored us all day, comes racing down the stairs just to lean on me.  It’s like she has an internal clock that goes off after bedtime alarming her to the fact no one is demanding anything from me and no one is touching me. The perfect time for her to lean that hot and hairy body on me.

After a full day of kids and a dog leaning on me, Hubby has the audacity to try his own version of leaning. No thanks, Dude. Keep on moving. After 12 straight hours of kid and canine leaning, ain’t no one got time for that.

So if you need me, find one of my kids. I will just be a lean away.

 

The Dog Becomes a Dog

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You know all of that annoying  awesome, unsolicited advice that random people share with you while you’re pregnant? Like the time the old lady in Target saw me carrying a then 18 month old Monkey and I was sporting a pretty big belly with #2, and well, here is how the convo went down in the checkout line:

                          Random stranger: “You’re pregnant already!”

                         Me: “Yes, it would appear as though I am with child.”

                        Random Stranger: “Well, I’m sure that (pointing to my bumb) was a mistake!”

                        Me: “Uhhhhh… nope. She was planned.”

                       Random Stranger: “Oh a she. Well that is good. Now you can be done having kids.”

                      Me: “Actually, we are going Dugger Style and popping out about 20 more, but thanks for asking.”

OK, that last part totally didn’t happen, but I wish I was quicker with the whit that day. Cut me some slack, I was pregnant, tired from chasing a toddler, and SHOCKED that some random lady would be so insane at Target. Wal-Mart maybe, but Target? REALLY?

Whether it is your first baby or you are Michelle Dugger and working on #21, random people will offer their well-intentioned, but mostly useless, advice. I’m going to throw my hat in the ring of  things you would rather not know, but I’m gonna tell you anyway. Here is one foreshadowed tidbit that actually comes true, your dog becomes a dog.

I know, I know, all of my dog loving, non-mommy readers just gasped in horror. “Girl, you cray cray.”  It is a thought too painful to bare; however, it will happen. The animal that you love and adore as if you had birthed her hairy little face yourself, simply becomes the family dog when kids bust up your pooches happy home.

This is my beloved Suggie,  my first real baby.  The Hubbster and I rescued her from the pound when we were just two crazy kids dating. We adored her, thought she was the smartest, cutest, and well-mannered canine to ever walk the earth. We would lay in bed on weekends and snuggle this sweet pooch and laugh at everyone who thought their dog was the best. Fools, ha!

She was the center of our universe, the star of our Christmas card, and unbeknownst to any of us, her days at the top dog were numbered.

When Monkey came along, it got harder and harder to take her for runs and let’s be honest, feed her twice a day. “Did you feed the dog today or yesterday?” Once Mimi came into our world, Suggie was on suicide watch.

It’s heartbreaking and believe me, I have enough guilt over neglecting the dog (note: by neglect I mean she is not the only child anymore).  At night she sleeps in our bed, hogs the blankets, snores in my face and makes me hot all night. I consider this my penance for being a crap doggie-mommy.

As I look at my sleeping pup taking up most of the couch, I have to remember that the days Suggie may look back on as “the good old days” aren’t forgotten. All I can do to assuage my guilt over my Questionable Choices in Parenting is turn a blind eye when she eats yet another toy, let her lick my Lean Cuisine containers, and take funny pictures of her like this: