Why does parenting make us such push overs?

Growing up, I had my husband, his career, our house, our cars, our children’s names and everything! picked out. I knew exactly what my children were going to look like (me of course!) I knew I would have a live-in nanny and I would work full time (so, partially right). All while sleeping around behind my husband’s back with Ken (yes, Barbie’s Ken) because he worked such grueling hours trying to maintain my wickedly awesome lifestyle. Apparently cheating is a way of life. Who knew?

I would lay down The Law and I would be Boss. I would be listened to, back talk and lying would not be tolerated and I would be feared. Ha! If the children became unbearable, well… I would simply pass them to the nanny and tell her that I had to get out of the house and go have a drink with my friends.

[So instead I ditch the husband with an unruly toddler and head to my friend's to bitch and moan compare notes gush about how grateful we are for such understanding husbands. ]

So far, everything seems to be heading uncontrollably downhill and that kid is propped up on my back using my hair as the reigns.

Thirteen Things I Never Thought I’d Let My Child Do

1. Watch TV - Okay so, only partially true. I never thought I’d let him watch as much TV as he does.

2. I never thought I’d let him have more shows saved on the DVR then I have. That’s happened as well. He’s got nearly 45% of the damn thing.

3. Eat chips. Now he doesn’t eat them that often, but yes.. he has chips.

4. Have McDonald’s until he was at least five. Nope. Done that too.

5. Eat cereal for dinner. But he does. It’s high in fiber though, so it’s okay, right?

6. Watch TV in the car. That was before I realized how hard it actually is to concentrate on the road with a whining/crying toddler in the back.

7. Hug random strangers in WalMart. But apparently he really fancies the East Indian lady we happen to run into often in the baby section. Weird.

8. Stay up late. But sometimes you just have to weigh the positives and negatives. I mean, Grandma put up with the cranky evening and we can sleep in? Bonus!

9. Try pop or coffee until he was much older, and well… he’s done both - not by my choice though. His father doesn’t seem to think it’s as big a deal as I do.

10. Go to bed without brushing. Meh. He’s got another set of teeth comin’ in. We can try better with those, right?

11. Sleep in my bed. Ya, that’s right. I love sleep too much to share my space with anyone. But I have. Numerous times. Too many times. *sigh*

12. Wear clothes with Dinsey characters, Dora, Diego or Pooh Bear. Done, done and done. *gag*

13. Use a bottle and a pacifier until he was two. But we’re coming up on two nice and quickly and I don’t see him relinquishing them any. time. soon.

And! Remember how I went on about Carter calling Mike Mommy or Mike? Ya, he still does. But it’s normally just Mike. No matter how many times we correct him, Mike is still Mike. I was able to finally get him on video. A little. He gets performance anxiety when he’s on camera (not really, he likes to watch the LCD on the back of the camera instead).

I had the baby monitor on for the first time in a long time last night, just to listen for him, in case; since he hadn’t been able to keep a thing down all evening. Good mom, right?

10pm Mike got home from a course for the union hall and as we were standing in the kitchen talking - beside the monitor I so intently listened to for his breathing - I heard him stirring, then the unmistakable retching of a wee toddler. Barfing in his bed. *gag*

As we went into inspect the damage and impending clean up, he laid still and seemed not to be bothered by the vomit surrounding him. Poor lifeless little body, exhausted and unsure of what was happening to him. I picked him up, changed him and rocked in the rocking chair while Daddy (see calling him Daddy all the time; like a good wife) changed the sheets. As he nestled his head into my neck and wrapped his arms around me I was consumed with love. My heart ached for my little guy. Tears welding in my eyes, I rubbed his back and whispered how much I loved him.

Wearily lifting his head, he looked me in the eye, I wuvb you Mommy, he mumbled before placing it back on my shoulder. Enough to melt the heart of a stone cold bitch like me.

As I placed him back in his clean bed, I patted his head, said good night, shut the light and just watched. Watched his little fragile body rise and fall with each breath while cuddling his stuffed monkey, sucking vigorously on his soother. He lifted his head slightly and in a garbled soother filled voice stated matter-of-factly Night-night mama.

I closed the door and walked away, fighting the aching urge to pick him up and hold him all night.

This morning we’re all back to normal. Carter was bouncing off the walls, singing, yelling and dancing to Dora; so we headed on with our normal routine. Off to daycare and me, off to work.

All I’ve been thinking about this morning is sitting still, in a quite darkened room while I holding him and rocking … If only time could stand still, even just for a moment longer.

So we’re having a little but of an identity crisis lately at the House of Me. Nah, not me this time. I think I know where I stand. For now.

Carter.

He calls me Daddy.

He calls Mike. Mommy or Mike.

It’s been happening a lot of the past month or so and only escalating.

When I drop him off at daycare, every morning I get : “Daddy!” as he wails for me to pick him up. I gently remind him: “Carter, I’m Mommy.”

“DADDY!”

*sigh*

It’s worse for Mike though. I can’t think of anything more emasculating then being out in public with your toddler son yelling “Mommy!” while point directly at him. Seriously, there is no confusion on our parts. He is clearly calling Mike, mommy.

Lately, he’s been calling him mommy less and Mike more. At first I thought he was saying “Mine!” but when Mike leaves, comes home, hands something to Carter he gets: “Bye My” (read: Mike), “HI, Mi” or “Tank-ku Mi”

Mike is to the point where it’s really getting to him and has requested that I call him Daddy. You know, to encourage Carter to do it.

Me: So, when we’re out at the store or something, and I need to get your attention.. I have to say Daddy?

Mike: Yes. *stone cold sober straight faced*

Me: You’re fuckin’ kidding right? I have to yell out Daddy! if I’m trying to get your attention for something?

Mike: Yes (looking at me with that what-the-fuck-is-so-hard-to-understand-about-this face).

Me: Seriously? Call you Daddy?

Mike (all exaggerated like): YESSSS. Call me Daddy. All the time.

Me: Even when we’re doing it? Oh! God! Yes! Oh Daddy! Oh! My! God! DADDY!!!! *sounding all sexy like*

Mike: Fuck off. Seriously.

So we tried to put the plan into action. I picked up Carter as we’re headed out to the car and mention something about Daddy and the car when he looks at me kinda stunned. Fine. Whatever. I then asked him to hand Daddy his cup; while Mike outstretches his hand to receive the cup Carter looks at me, looks at Mike and says “No. No. Daddy” *points at Mike* “Mommy!”

Mike gives me an evil I’mgonnafuckinkillyou glare.

We may have our work cut out for us on this one.

(Note: I think this is really all my fault. Well, the Mike part at least. I did *maybe* on one occasion a couple of occasions encourage Carter call him Mike. But not Mommy. I didn’t do that. Promise! Even though I kinda wish I had, because I find it super funny!)

Glamorous Geek is up and running with a fresh new review (but not my design, since I’ve had to prioritize, and well, paying customers come first). Regardless, get over there, say hi and check out the new review!

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Before having children of my own I was always involved with little ones. I “helped” in the infant room of the daycare I was in when I was six and in the “kindergarten” program. I was changing diapers from the ripe old age of eight - by choice.

[It's really amazing the tasks you can give kids and they think it's great. Dusting? Awesome! Recycling? Sweet! Diaper change? Me! Puuulease!]

There really wasn’t a time that I was uncomfortable receiving new parenting advice. Maybe people find me slightly intimidating *shrug*  because strangers never approached to tell me it’s time to feed/change/hold the baby. Nor did family tell me that I should be doing something different.

Sure there was the rare occasion that statistics and research mumbo-jumbo was spewed forth like gospel, but I am able to channel that wasted energy into something good - Look! The wind is blowing!

My mantra is “Smile and Nod”.

Don’t agree? Smile and Nod.

Didn’t hear what they said? Smile and Nod.

Telling you something about as interesting as grass growing? Smile and Nod.

See, works for just about everything. I think it was my answer to everything for the first 6 months of Carter’s life.

The only unsolicited advice that really, really got to me was people telling us that we HAVE! to get rid of our dog.

That dog is not safe to have around children.
That dog could snap at any moment.
That dog is dangerous.
You’re being irresponsible for keeping That dog.

[If you're unaware. Mike and I have a pit bull. Briggs. She's calm, mellow, lovable and very sweet. I've never met a more lovable creature, no matter the breed or species (especially my devil cat. Ugh. ) We brought her into our family with the intention of having her for life. A change in our family situation was not going to change that decision. I am a strong believer in the fact that animals are family and should not be dumped to the wayside with the arrival of children. Too many pets lose their homes and loved ones with the arrival of a baby, and I am not that type of person. ]

But my paternal grandmother was the most harsh saying: That dog is going to rip the baby apart, then what would I do? We’ve all warned you and you choose to keep That dog. I’d hate to say I told you so. (Her bi-polar tends to make her over dramatic at times. *roll eyes*)

She went on to share stories of the pit bull that lived next door to them and had to be shot out back for nipping at my uncle when he was a child. (Later it came out that the mother pit bull was protecting her puppies as my uncle unknowingly ran towards the litter. Go figure.)

That’s some wonderful advice I am so grateful to have ignored.

*

Don’t you wish you could have just handed them this? This post is part of The Parent Blogger Network’s Blog Blast coinciding with the launch of the Body, Soul, & Baby campaign, a fantastic new pregnancy/new mom handbook by Dr. Tracy Gaudet (Director of Duke Medical School’s Department of Integrative Medicine).
Wanna win an iPOD shuffle and an autographed copy of the book? All you have to do is write a post about the most annoying preggo or new mom advice you received and what you said (or wished you said in return) and then share your post at PBN to enter the draw!